


Crystallize

by knightcommander



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, endgame kirk/spock, gratuitous dream sequences and astronomy metaphors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2017-12-22 11:24:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightcommander/pseuds/knightcommander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Into Darkness, Kirk and Spock try to move forward with their relationship. It's a very, very bumpy road.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for STID. There's a lot of angst and a lot of love triangles, but I promise (really!) there's a happy ending.

When Kirk opened his eyes, he was there- a faint smile on his lips, crinkles at the edges of his Vulcan eyes. It was in that moment, that Kirk, knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Spock was happy. 

“You know, Uhura and I helped too!” Bones chimed in from across the room, disgruntled as usual.

 Spock merely nodded, his eyebrow raising as he stepped forward. “He knows, Doctor.”

When Spock took Kirk’s hand firmly, the captain was at a loss for words. “Spock,” he finally managed, his mouth dry.

 “Captain.” 

“I...”

 “It’s been a long two weeks.”

When Spock bent to kiss him, Kirk couldn’t help but reach a hand around the Vulcan’s neck, the two wrapping in each other too briefly, too gently. As Kirk’s vision faded from exhaustion and medication, he could hear Bone’s derisive snort, and the accompanying sensation of a cool hand brushing blonde hair from his forehead.

It had been a long two weeks.

 

* * *

 

“So, are you two a thing?” 

Kirk laughed, wiping crumbs from his jacket. The sandwich in his hands wobbled precariously as he gesticulated. “I don’t know- maybe?”

Bones sighed, his brows furrowing. “God dammit Jim, I’m a doctor, not a mind reader.”

Kirk mumbled through the food in his mouth. “Why do you care so much?”

 “He seems pretty serious about this. That’s all I’m saying.”

 “What?” Kirk clapped Bones of the shoulder good-naturedly. “You afraid I’m going to break his heart?”

 “Precisely.” Bones answered, dour.

“Since when have you developed a soft spot for Spock?”

“It’s not... that, Jimbo.” He sighed again, taking a bite of his own sandwich and swallowing before continuing. “It’s just, he broke up with Uhura and everything. Hell, he put Khan within an inch of his life he was so upset. I am not saying I’m expert on this kind of thing anymore, but... this is real.”

“I’ll consider what you’ve said,” Kirk managed, suddenly finding himself short of breath.

 “Not that I owe a favor to that pointy eared goblin,” Bones continued, chuckling, “but he did save your life- so I might as well try.” 

“Yeah,” Kirk managed, his eyes finding the floor, his grip on his sandwich tightening.

“You okay, Jim? You look as bad as when I hit you with that Melvaran mud flea vaccine.” 

Kirk smiled. “I’m fine. Really.”

  

* * *

 

Peace comes from order, from precision. Spock reminded himself that whenever he was cleaning- a chore he had convinced himself was cathartic. Predictably, his apartment was perfectly spotless. When it wasn’t, it was an intentional “casual untidiness.” Styled akin to a Japanese _machiya,_ the room was geometrically designed, elegant in its cool simplicity, utterly modern. In the meditation room, incense was often burning, filling the apartment faintly with the smell of myrrh, sandalwood, and a touch of operculum. It was exactly the scent he now associated with Jim Kirk, though initially, he had disliked that.  

It was eleven am on a Sunday morning.

He had been attempting breathing exercises, meditating as he looked out his back window. Instead of overlooking the San Francisco bay, however, Spock had programmed the window to “overlook” a landscape from Vulcan. While the apartment itself was airy and bright, colored with inoffensive topes and creams, the window displayed a hostile world, fiery red desert sands and a harsh wind. Dust blew over the jutting rocks, and the sparse shrubs wilted in the hot mid morning sun. Intuitively, Spock knew how that sand would feel, running through his fingers, the wind whipping dust into his hair. It was like a phantom limb, he realized, this desire for.... home.

 That was all that was left of it. Home.

_Five_.

Spock counted backwards, numbers leaping through his mind. He needed space, and yet, that was wrong too.

_Four._

Calculations and constellations danced behind his eyelids, snippets of prose from the greatest Vulcan poets whispered into his ears- like wind.

 _Three_.

The faint smell of operculum, a robust musk, wafted into his nostrils, and he sniffed instinctively.

_Two_

Spock preferred saffron- but his mother had always carried that scent.

_One_

Saffron and the space between two hands.

 

He opened his eyes. 

Wasn’t it ironic? Spock was always reaching for the things he couldn’t lose- then losing them. Amanda, her soft, human hand disappearing into the thin air of Vulcan, then into its red dirt, then, eventually, into the nothingness of an impalpable black hole. The loss of Kirk had been equally painful- though more frustrating. His hand against the acrylic glass, separated by such a paltry material, so mundane and yet... it was the divide that severed Spock from the last person that mattered. Closer than they had ever been, and yet further. Irony, at its utter most cutting.

The truth was, Spock had loved Kirk for a very long time. The pain had been so obvious in his brown eyes, his very Vulcan nature betrayed in every stray glance towards his captain. Kirk was an infamous womanizer, too smooth, too bold. Spock was just a lost Vulcan- a computer cut into the shape of a friend and a first officer. Kirk could never _love_ someone like Spock, or at least, not the way Spock wanted to be loved.

As Spock reached for his tea, he realized that, perhaps, the rite of _Kolinahr_ did have merit, that purging all emotion permanently might have been less painful than this “friendship” with James T. Kirk.  But he was human, partly, and he couldn’t help himself. Spock had chosen a human as radiant as the sun, and with a gravity a thousand times more potent; he was the greatest traits of humanity. He was all that had been suppressed in Spock. 

When Spock went to lean against the glass window, he tried to pretend that he could feel Vulcan’s heat through the material, feel the wind as it battered the window frame. Spock couldn’t help but wonder, not for the first time, how often he would find himself on the wrong side of the glass.

 

* * *

 

“I thought we would have lunch.”

Kirk laughed. “Like a lunch date?”

Spock’s eyebrows merely rose. “If that’s what you would like.”

“Look,” Kirk said, sitting on the bed as he buttoned the top of his shirt, “don’t you have a lecture on quacks, quots-“

“Quarks, Captain.”

“Right- don’t you have that?”

 Spock paused, trying his best to read Kirk. After a beat, he gave up, answering plainly. “The lecture, Quark Consolidation in the Early Universe, was postponed until next week. Starfleet wished that the lecture be given in the refurbished Kepler Hall, which was damaged in the crash landing of the _USS_ _Vengeance_.”

 Kirk smiled, as though he were reminiscing fondly. “I’m sure the quarks will appreciate the new paint job.”

 Only a twitch of a smile ghosted over Spock’s features. “Your personification of subatomic particles is most illogical, Captain.”

 “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Kirk snorted, rolling his eyes. About to speak again, the captain stopped, suddenly. While he was fully dressed, Spock was still in his robe, and as such, Kirk wasn’t sure how to... leave.

“Lunch?” Spock prompted again.

 Kirk’s face scrunched up, hands rubbing together with sudden awkwardness, guilt already plain on his face. “Yeah, about that...”

 Spock’s lips pursed, his expressions still wry. “Your unease indicates you already have plans.”

 “Observant as usual.” Kirk replied dryly.

 Spock merely sighed good-naturedly, stepping past Kirk towards his wardrobe to dress himself. As he passed, the Vulcan coyly made sure the hem of his silk robe just brushed Kirk’s knee- a motion that was not lost on the captain. “So, may I ask with whom?” Spock finally asked, sifting methodically through his drawer.

 “I, uh,” Kirk shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “I, uh, actually totally forgot about these plans until this morning.”

 Spock was not fooled by Kirk’s attempt to avoid the question. “Is it Doctor McCoy then?”

 “Naw, I think Bones is at the hospital today.”

 “Ah,” Spock replied noncommittally.  “Then it’s...” His voice trailed off as a rolodex of Kirk’s various friends flipped through his mind, stacking the odds of each candidate. When the answer came to him, his face hardened. “There is a 95.4 percent chance it’s-“

 “It’s. It’s Carol.” Kirk tried a preemptive answer, knowing it meant little, knowing exactly what suspicions were forming in the Vulcan’s mind. “Look, it’s not like _that_ , okay?” 

“I see.” Spock replied quietly, turning back to his laundry.

“Spock, come on. I can have lunch with-“

 “ _I see_.” Spock interrupted, sterner. He had gone cold, folding and refolding articles of clothing with a tidy fury, channeling his hurt and frustration into the starched folds of his regulation shirts.

Kirk remained silent for a moment, watching his friend seethe, trying to give him space. It was hard to reconcile his guilt with his building frustration, the two emotions surging in tandem. With a sigh he pulled his bag onto his lap, preparing to leave. “We are going talk about this.” 

“It’s fine.” Spock replied curtly, pulling off his robe and shrugging on his shirt. “I have been intending to meet with Uhura this week anyway. She has some inquiries regarding the subtle differences between the subjunctive tenses of the three varying Romulan dialects.” 

Kirk’s lip curled involuntarily. “Sounds like a hot date.” 

“I’m sure your date will be pleasant as well,” Spock shot back, still facing the drawer.

“It’s not a date!” Kirk finally exclaimed, exasperated.

“Of _course_.”

“We are going to talk,” Kirk finally sighed, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he stood. “We need to address this.”

“Address what?” Spock answered mock blithely, finally dressed for the most part, his hair mussed.

Kirk couldn’t help but think, in that one brief moment, that Spock was the most handsome man he’d ever seen- his clipped bangs just barely out of line, his eyes involuntarily red and swollen. He was perfect (and imperfect), an amalgam of emotions and needs, hardened into veneers of protective glass.

 “We’ll talk.” Kirk finally repeated, grasping Spock’s shoulder as he stepped towards the door. “We’ll talk.”

 

* * *

 

“Spock? Spock, are you there? It’s me, it’s Nyota.” A brief pause in the recording, “Oh it’s your answering machine. Great.  Um, alright. Well, I just wanted to say I got your letter.”

 Spock sighed, or really tutted, the breath in his throat catching. “Pause.” He said quietly, the word still ringing loudly throughout his empty apartment. “No- play.”

 “I.... I don’t know what to say.” She continued, her voice breathless and nervous. “I just expected... I don’t know, I just expected you to tell me in person. That’s all. We should meet in person- this week, at the very least. I guess... I guess I just need to know if this has to do with... Kirk.” 

“Pause. Rewind.”

“I guess I just need to know if this has to do with... Kirk.”

“Rewind.”

“This has to do with... Kirk.”

 His hand ghosted over the control. “Play.”

 “I mean, that’s okay- totally, totally okay. I...I understand. She continued, her voice steadying, “Anyway, I have some stuff of yours. A few books, your toiletries, that chair we bought at the-“

 “Pause.” A guilty swallow. “Fast forward. Play.”

“-to be a stranger. That’s what I want. For us to keep... performing admirably.” A dry, painful chuckle. “We should stay friends. And colleagues, of course.”

“Pause.” There was still twenty seconds on the recording, twenty horrible seconds that Spock had listened to over and over and over again. “Play." 

“You know,” she started, quickly, nervously, “we did everything we could. We saved him, Spock. You.. You don’t have to keep beating yourself up. You don’t have to give him... everything else.”

“Pause.” A quiet silence. He never knew what to think of that, and he never would. “Play.” 

“Anyway, call me back. We should get lunch, okay? Okay. Talk to you later.”

 

* * *

 

Across town, Kirk rolled over, his face finding the cool side of the pillow. Next to him, Carol sighed breathily.

 

* * *

 

 

It was drizzling, the San Francisco sky gloomy and pensive. Spock felt similarly, walking along the street with his umbrella, the rain just sideways enough to catch his ankles. He needed to be out, to leave his apartment and see the city for a few minutes, to feel the thick air of earth brush past his ears. While the quiet helped him focus, there was only so much quiet he could survive when his thoughts were constantly racing, constantly assuming the worst, constantly... constant. The sounds of the city refreshed him, chaotic and loud- reminding him that there was world beyond the fragmentary calculations and shattered emotions of his mind.

“Spock! Spock, is that you?”

Ahead of him on the street, Bones was waving to him, eyes narrowed as he peered through the rain, his short hair soaked. He was still in his medical uniform, a thick raincoat haphazardously shrugged over it, phone in hand. “I almost didn’t see you under that umbrella.” He continued, stepping forward, clapping the Vulcan on the shoulder.

For a moment, Spock felt uneasy, still a little awkward around McCoy. The two enjoyed their banter, but this seemed too friendly. “It’s good to see you, Doctor. I trust your shift at the hospital was pleasant?”

 Bones snorted, grimacing. “A pain in the ass. Had to deal with two cases of Orillian lung maggots.” His nose scrunched, “I didn’t want to ask how they got it.”

 “Sounds... unpleasant.” Spock rephrased, his head tilting with concealed amusement. “How are you otherwise?”

“Oh well. _Fine_. Soaking wet.” The doctor grumbled, a thick droplet of water hitting his forehead appropriately. “What brought you out of your lair?”

 “I was in need of fresh air.” Spock answered plainly, ignoring the playful jab, though mostly just trying to avoid a complicated answer. “My office often lacks creative ambience.”

 “Didn’t take you for a poet,” Bone’s noted, eyebrows rising skeptically. “I thought your were all numbers and, uh... logic.”

 “All work requires clarity and ingenuity- even passion occasionally.”

 “Vulcans,” Bones chuckled, “can’t live with emotions or without them.”

 “A statement that is more true than you realize,” Spock replied, unable to keep a small smile from blooming on his face. For a moment, there was an awkward silence, the two friends unsure whether to part ways or to continue their easy repartee. Finally, Spock took the plunge. “Have you eaten dinner yet, Doctor?”

Bones raised a single eyebrow. “I don’t want to make Kirk jealous.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

Spock’s body tensed, his eyes dropping. “I believe Kirk is busy.” 

“Oh.” Bones sighed, a hand nervously wiping rain from his forehead. “Dammit Spock, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have... I was just trying to be funny.”

“I... I understand.”

“Look, why don’t we have dinner?” Bones ventured apologetically, stepping under Spock’s umbrella. “Get your mind off things.”

At first Spock was going to refuse, green rising in his cheeks, his grip on the umbrella handle tightening. Then he remembered his empty apartment... the empty bed. “That would be nice,” the Vulcan finally answered, the fight leaving him.

“Great.” Bones grinned, “I know a great steak restaurant just a block over- _real_ southern cooking. Almost as good as my mama’s.”

"Doctor, Vulcans are vegetarian.”

 “They have salads. I think.”

 

* * *

 

_A brush of blonde, blue eyes crinkling as he laughed. He looked healthy, happy. Ever since the incident with Khan, Kirk had always looked tired, a little worn- like dying had taken a little piece of his health, though not his spirit. He was looking into Spock’s eyes, his hand idly brushing the Vulcan’s ear._

_“I have been, and always shall be, your friend,” Spock reiterated. He felt like he had said it a million times, and further, that he could say it a million more._

_“Just a friend?” Kirk would tease, settling into Spock’s lap, a wry smile on his face._

_“In Vulcan, there often is no distinction,” Spock would answer, his hands finding Kirk’s back, feeling the taught muscles there._

_“A distinction between..?”_

_“Friend. Lover. Partner.”_

_Kirk scooted back. “Partner?”_

_Spock sighed, patient as ever, pulling Kirk back to him, finding his lips and speaking into them. “Yes. Partner.”_

Spock woke up, his bedroom dark- quiet. Next to him, McCoy slept soundlessly, his body on the far side of the bed. He could still smell the operculum, still feel the warmth of Kirk’s breath along his jaw... _the heat that filled his chest_. In desperation, he scattered the memory, curling next to Bones, letting his nostrils fill with the scent of mint. Spock was too heartbroken to feel guilty. 


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh it has to get worse before it gets better, right? /laugh cries

“You keep this place too damn clean.” Bones grumbled, frowning into his coffee cup. “I like my home to feel like home.”

“To Vulcans, a home is not a home unless it promotes clarity of mind.” Spock replied, sitting down at the table.

“Yeah well,” Bones continued bitterly, “you can have clarity of mind without everything being so sterile.”

 An eyebrow rose. “I would think you would appreciate sterility, as a Doctor.”

Bones grimaced. “Home and work is _very_ different.”

For a moment the two men were unapologetically awkward, the elephant in the room expanding. Both were unsure how to handle this unprecedented step in their friendship, though mutually, without a word, they both understood this was not a _relationship_. After all, most of their dealings had been through Kirk, the reluctant referee in their constant bickering on the bridge.

“I have trouble imagining your place of residence.” Spock finally added, taking a careful sip of his tea. “It must be fascinating.”

“Consider it boring,” Bones quickly replied. He didn’t want to mention that it was, foremost, populated with the relics of his life pre-Starfleet (what was left of it, anyway). People always asked about the picture albums, the old Southern cook books. Bones had stopped having too many guests over. “Your coffee tastes like hell,” the doctor complained, changing the subject.

Spock blinked. “I’m out of practice. Tea is my preferred beverage.”

“Of course.” Bones agreed dryly, shaking his head. “Do you know where I could get a _real_ drink, at least?”

“There is a brunch restaurant a few blocks away. They are known for serving an adequate Bloody Mary. ” 

Bones just grinned. “If that isn’t music to my ears, I don’t know what is.”

 

* * *

 

_Above him, the sky was fire, coal and sulfur saturating his breaths, choking his lungs. It spilled from the mountain in angry spurts and jets, filling his vision, becoming his eyes. Every step was getting harder, his matter dissolving into ash, his blonde hair turning black._

  _He couldn’t keep going, but he couldn’t stop. Kirk knew what dying felt like. This was it._

_“Captain?”_

_Kirk pivoted, seeing nothing but thin air and streaks of smoke. Snarling, he took another step forward, his bare toes curling into the dirt, red hot under his skin._

_“Jim?”_

_Kirk turned again, his eyes narrowing as he found nothing. “Spock?” He finally called out quietly, his hope delicate, eyes brimming miserably. When nothing responded, he finally resorted to anger, a primal cry escaping him, “Spock!”_

_The earth shuddered underneath him, the magma flows shifting, the volcano hearing his call. His feet slipped as the ground opened, swallowing him whole, gravity pushing him down. He fell, and fell and fell and fell- until it felt as though he had found a black hole inside another planet. At first, as Kirk dropped, he tried to rip at the soil, find some sort of grip in the earth. Instead, however, the clay ran through his fingers, catching under his nails- red like blood and just as warm. He screamed- for minutes._

_When his lungs gave out, he found ground._

_Inside the volcano, the heat was a thousand fold. Waves of lava bubbled and crested, spewing embers of light, blindingly bright. Kirk had landed on some sort of platform, stable but somewhat rocky. He managed to stand, but he knew this was the end._

_“Captain?”_

_Kirk turned, startlingly face to face with Spock. He was wearing his heavy enviro- suit, poised, calm, even blank, behind the glass of his protective mask. Flames scattered and danced around him, like a swarm of insects on fire._

_“What are you doing here, Spock?” Kirk cried, his mouth dry, his fingers scorched. He couldn’t help it, trying to rush to Spock, to cling to something in the madness. “You have to... You have to....” The words choked in his throat, his body frozen in agony, unable to reach his friend._

_Spock tried to finish the sentence, his voice distorted by the suit. “Get out?”_

_“Yes.. get out.” Kirk wheezed. “Why-why are you here?”_

_“This seemed like something you would do.” The Vulcan merely replied, quietly._

_Kirk wanted to scream, to cry, to shake the life into Spock. Why was he so apathetic, so resigned? Pain ripped through him then, the flames circling his bare arms and rising up his spine, disintegrating the last of his already weakened resistance. He couldn’t help it, a single, pained cry escaping him, falling to his knees weakly. He was collapsing under his own gravity, about to supernova into infinity.  “Do you understand... do you understand why I came back for you?”_

_“Yes.”_

_Kirk couldn’t see, couldn’t speak- he could only reach, his hands trying to find Spock, to feel that hair, those big dumb ears, to hear his voice just one last time.... His hand hit glass._

With a cry and a heaving breath, Kirk awoke, his hands twisting savagely into the sheets, body coated in a thin layer of cold sweat. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe- he had to count, backwards, a meditation technique he had developed to remind himself that he was _still alive_.

“Jim..? Are you okay?” Quiet concern cut softly through Carol’s clipped accent, reaching across the bed, soothingly finding his arm.

For a moment, Kirk didn’t respond, his eyes still unfocused, body tensed. “Yeah,” he finally managed, “I’m fine.”

 

 

* * *

 

“Spock?”

Kirk knocked on the door, quietly at first, then louder. With a bummed sigh, Kirk realized he was sweating, mostly from nerves but also from excitement. Maybe it was just warm in this hallway, he thought, casually. Regardless, Kirk had always had trouble recognizing his own emotions, his own attractions. He tended to assume everyone wanted him more than he wanted them. This was more or less true, but most certainly not the rule. 

The truth was, Kirk couldn’t hold back anymore, couldn’t fight it. He _needed_ to see Spock- even if it meant listening to him prattle about new warp calculations, or particularly disappointing students at the Academy (Kirk liked to remind Spock that he had once been such a student). Perhaps it was selfish, to drop in on Spock like this... then plan on leaving. He could deal with that later, though. He hoped.

“...Captain?” Spock opened the door, his expression immediately suspicious, if not defensive. While Spock’s face was often a blank page to others, Kirk had become used to reading its subtleties with more or less precision.

“Relax, Spock. It’s just me.” 

Spock pursed his lips. “I did not anticipate your arrival.” 

“Good.” Kirk smiled, “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

If Spock could have rolled his eyes, he would have. “Vulcans do not like surprises. There never enough variable control.”

“Never enough control?” Kirk leaned forward coyly, chuckling breathily. He had closed the space between them so fast... 

Spock’s pupils immediately dilated, his confusion dissipating. While he did not lean forward, he tilted his head, the two men’s breath mixing in the doorway, Spock’s gaze dropping as shivers ran unbidden down his spine. His resistance had always been weak in this area- his fortitude failing wherever Kirk was concerned. He had given him everything, subconsciously but willingly.

“Do you mind if I come in?” Kirk finally asked, his voice a bold whisper.

Spock didn’t bother replying, stepping back and pulling Kirk to him, his hands finding his waist, moving upwards along his back, fingers gliding over the nerves of his neck. The door swung shut behind them, already too engrossed in one another to care or notice, their lips meeting with desperate ferocity.

Spock was... happy. For a moment.

Disentangling himself, Spock took a gulping breath, centering himself quickly. “You said earlier that we would... _talk._ ” 

Kirk shook his head, wryly amused, if slightly peeved. “We will.” He tried to bring himself back to Spock, but found himself pushed away.

“When, might I ask?”

“Let me see your schedule. Do you have time today? Now?”

Spock almost laughed, suddenly ashamed. He had doubted Kirk before- a mistake in hindsight. Maybe this would be the same. After all, everyone on the Enterprise trusted Kirk with their life; couldn’t Spock trust the captain with his hope? For now, the Vulcan was appeased.

 “Later,” he finally sighed, running a hand through Kirk’s hair and kissing him fully. For a moment, Spock felt like, perhaps, his suspicious had all been an illogical miscommunication, a series of escalating fears that his subconscious had allowed to fester.

_“Everyday, every minute, stars are being born,”_ Spock remembered lecturing to his class earlier that day _. “The process requires matter to collapse and sink under it’s own gravity- finally coming together to ignite spectacularly. It is, by far, one of the most poetic events in the universe._ ” The class had laughed at that.

 Things would be better. They had to be.

 

* * *

 

Later, when Spock was finally deeply asleep, nestled next to his captain, Kirk decided it was time. Dressing in the dark, he snuck out quietly, closing each door with uttermost care. It was a skill he had, unfortunately, practiced at the Academy with his fellow cadets. Never in a million years had Kirk foreseen needing to use that skill on Spock, but Kirk knew he wasn’t ready to _talk_. In fact, he wasn’t sure he would ever be ready for that.

Spock never stirred, his dreams peaceful, if uneventful. By the time the Vulcan awoke, there was no trace Kirk had ever been there. Even the bed was cold.

 

* * *

 

“I have to ask- _as your friend_.” 

“Bones, please, not this again,” Kirk whined, his chair grinding against the floor as he scooted it forward roughly. “You have a thirty-minute lunch and you want to spend it talking about _my_ love life? Come on.” The pair was in the hospital’s main cafeteria hall, suffering through its usual, miserable offerings. For a moment Kirk eyed the noodle dish that passed as “Asian food,” ultimately too hungry to refuse it.

Bones prickled, his eyes darkening. “You need to sort things out.”

“’Sort things out.’” Kirk mocked, trying to gesticulate quotation marks with a forkful of food. “You’re killing me.”

“Come on, man,” Bones leaned forward, the humor leaving his eyes. “What are you doing? This isn’t you.”

“What? What code of conduct have I violated now?”

“You’re playing Spock.”

Kirk laughed, first nervously, then defensively. “Spock? Spock is.... Spock’s okay. He used to hate me- he _marooned me_. Remember that?”

“You’re being a jackass, Jim.” Bones leaned back, having finally said his peace. “And you know it.”

Kirk sighed loudly, throwing down his utensils in resignation. “Look. Spock and I are....”

“And Carol.” Bones prompted.

“...And Carol,” Kirk added, reluctantly, “We’re all mixed up. I don’t know what going on. Honestly.”

Bones frowned, disappointed. “Jim, you’re my best friend. You know what you’re doing to him.”

“Spock is an adult. He can take care of himself. Besides,” Kirk scoffed, “Bones, seriously, what’s gotten into you?”

With a fatalistic sigh, the doctor gave up, unwilling to argue further. “I just hope you know what you’re doing. If you’re not careful, you’ll lose him.”

“Alright, alright, alright.” Kirk grouched, “I get the sage warning. What’s up in your love life, anyway?" 

“I’m divorced, Jim. I don’t have one.”

“...So?”

Bones couldn’t help it, meeting Kirk’s eyes for a moment too long. “It’s mixed up.” 

 

* * *

  

A brush of blonde, just visible through the restaurant window. Spock craned his neck, subtly.

“Anyway, I think our life expectancy is pretty damn short on the _Enterprise_. Think about it; why are _we_ always part of the away team?” Bones grumbled, oblivious that Spock wasn’t listening. “I’ll tell you what. I did not get my ass through medical school just to lose it on some godforsaken planet five light years out in space.”

No, it was two blonde heads, Spock realized. The Vulcan stepped closer, trying to peer through the window glare inconspicuously, his hands held casually behind his back.

“You should talk to Kirk about it before the ship’s christening,” Bones continued. “Maybe we can get a policy drafted that keeps us onboard, you know what I’m saying? ...Spock?”

“That is a valid suggestion,” Spock replied blankly. He couldn’t help it, beginning to cross the street. He just had to get a better look....

“Spock? Spock, where are you going?” Bones walked quickly to keep up with him, “Spock?”

“Just a moment, Doctor. I believe I recognize...” 

_Click._

Bone looked forward, his stomach dropping.

_Click._

“Spock, we should go, let’s just-“

A hover car screeched by, barely missing Spock. The Vulcan hardly noticed, continuing to step forward, wind kicking up reddish sand from the street, blowing it into his hair. The world had gone quiet, only the beat of his heart registering dimly in his senses. He needed to stop, to meditate, to clear his mind... his hand reached forward.

“Spock!” Bone’s jumped into traffic, trying to reach is friend.  Another car whizzed past and he cursed, dodging another airborne scooter.

_They were eating lunch, so comfortable in each other presence, their eyes meeting warmly. Kirk had dark circles under his eyes, but that didn’t matter. On his face was a big, goofy grin, like he had just made another stupid joke. Carol laughed, her coiffed hair bouncing, covering her mouth girlishly, coquettishly. She reached for the salt, but so did Kirk, they’re hand’s touching unexpectedly. She smiled, he smiled- and impishly, Kirk leaned over the table and kissed her._

“Spock!”

The Vulcan startled, blinking away the trance as Bones barreled into him, pushing him off the road. “Don’t look,” the doctor commanded, trying to steer him away, “eyes on me.”

Spock didn’t respond, simply letting Bones guide him away from traffic. He was shell-shocked, too numb to register language, any language. There was something cold and heavy filling his lungs, crawling through his nervous system, curling around his spinal cord and tightening. _It could have been me_ , he thought weakly, a last glance going back to the restaurant window. _It’s always glass._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks for reading! I always appreciate thoughts and comments.


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter- but lots of plot.

Spock didn’t sleep.

He couldn’t- even though, above all else, it was what he wanted. In fact, the Vulcan simply wanted to retreat into his mind, dismantle his emotions, pick them apart one by one until they were tiny, shredded fragments. Manageable fragments. In his mind, he liked to imagine taking those emotions apart like complex machinery, or variables in an equation, cancelling them out through meticulous mathematics. If only they could be fed to the universe, lost in the entropy...

It had been a mistake to dismiss Bones, Spock realized. When the doctor had finally escorted Spock back to his apartment, he had offered to stay, to talk- but Spock wanted to be alone. Or really, he _needed_ to be alone. As a general rule, Vulcans weren’t a social people; they did not talk through problems, or mull them over out loud. But, silent company could have been nice, Spock realized. Could have kept him sane.

“I am emotionally compromised.” He said it aloud, in front of his bathroom mirror. For a moment, his own voice startled him, so used to utter silence in his apartment. He realized he hadn’t spoken in... was it hours or days? In the quiet, he took stock of his appearance, the usually prim bangs in desperate need of a trim, the bags under his eyes green. He looked like a mess, he noted, apathetically. He _looked_ emotionally compromised.

 

_Five._

His eyes closed, galaxies and star clusters illuminating themselves behind his eyelids. The world of science, of logic, was always safe.

_Four._

Their hands had met just a few nights ago, twining together so spontaneously, so naturally, so rhythmically- like planets in orbit.

_Three._

Maybe Spock was just a brown dwarf, a failed star that couldn’t ignite, alone in space, forgotten.

_Two._

The last time Spock had admitted to being emotionally compromised, he had given Kirk the _Enterprise._ What more could Spock have to give?

_One._

Deep down, he already knew the answer.

 

_If only Amanda were still alive,_ Spock thought, not for the first time. She would know what to do. She always did. It was one of her gifts to always see the light in the darkness, the good in all things, the most prudent path. Though Spock would never admit it aloud, losing his mother had hurt more than losing all of Vulcan. Sometimes he wondered what that said about him- about the divide between his natures.   

_Home._

Spock had finally broken it down, ripped the pieces apart enough that he could see light through the cracks. What he wanted, above all else, was _home_. Sarek had been a father and a mentor- but home? That belonged to the smell of saffron on Amanda’s clean clothes, the peculiar roundness of her ears, the proud smile.... _that was home._

More than anything, Spock had wanted the Enterprise to be his home, for Kirk to be his _Home._ In him, he had found warmth and light- a great star creating its own solar system. He had traded the fires of Vulcan for the fires of Kirk; but somehow, along the way, Spock had become a minor planet, an asteroid, left in the icy outer rings, in darkness.

“I have been emotionally compromised.” Spock whispered again, turning from his reflection, afraid to say these shattering truths, even to himself. “Perhaps it is time I stop reaching and... let go.”

_He could see Nyota’s warm smile, her hair swinging back and forth as she came into his office for the first time, her notes neatly in order. Then he could see Chekhov’s ruddy nose, hear his laugh as he struggled through difficult English words. Even Sulu’s bemused, reminiscing smile as he always (always) checked the external inertial dampener. Of course, he couldn’t forget Bone’s disgruntled murmurings, the kindness he had shown in trying to put Spock back together these past few nights, like a surgeon working in the ER from dusk to dawn sewing up a particularly mangled patient. Finally.... Kirk. He would never forget his easy smile, the courage he never failed to exhibit. He would never forget everything about him, the way he grinned, the way his gaze drifted up when he was deep in thought, always the victor never the victim. Spock would never forget... Kirk._

It would hurt to let go of everything.

_“Oh Spock,_ ” Amanda’s voice whispered to him through memories, “ _no matter what you choose, you’ll always have a proud mother.”_

Spock shrugged on his old sweater, one of the last ones he still owned from Vulcan, going over to his phone. “Dial, Sarek,” he commanded, sitting down.

For a moment the line buzzed. Then Sarek answered, “Spock?”

“Father,” Spock answered deliberately, his voice determined. “I was hoping we could meet. There is a matter I would like to discuss with you.”

“I am very busy, Spock.” He sounded weary, burdened. “What do you need?”

Spock swallowed. “I would like to discuss the _Rite of Kolinahr_.”

 

* * *

  

When there was no answer to his knock, Kirk frowned, his eyebrows furrowing in disappointment, though not in surprise. _What was it- day seven?_ Seven days, he counted grimly, that Kirk had stopped by Spock’s apartment, hoping to have a word- hoping to _talk._ Each day had been the same, his knock met with resounding silence, not even a note or a returned call. Either Spock had recently acquired a happening social life or... the Vulcan was purposefully not answering.

That didn’t particularly astonish Kirk. Spock had always been a little stubborn.

“Alright, Spock.” Kirk called through the door, nonplussed. “I’m leaving this by your door. I hope you like it.” With a sigh, he put down a small potted plant, a _Dendrobium Orchid_ , the tiny plastic placard announced. It was an elegant flower, geometrically interesting in the way the dark purple blooms precariously lined the top branch.  Of course, Kirk had other reasons for his gift choice, besides elegant lines and aesthetic blossoms. Namely, orchids were ornery plants, hard to maintain, harder to keep blooming. If Spock were a plant, Kirk thought wryly, he would be an orchid.

Walking away, Kirk thought about all the things he had been meaning to say, to get off his chest. He had never been good at _talking_. The man could lead people through hell, come back from the dead, fight off an army, but discuss his emotions? That seemed impossible. He just knew his tongue would catch, accidently saying something stupid, something that would remind Spock that he wasn’t worth it, that he was just a hack running on instinct.

Sometimes Kirk liked to remind himself why he joined Starfleet, why he had been driven to the skies. It had been, at the core, his need for flight, he realized, to never stop moving, to always be going _somewhere_. The only time he felt free was on that bridge, racing through the stars. How could he expect anyone to keep up?

Kirk would come back the next day, and the next. And the next. And the next. It was a vow he made silently to himself, his gaze dropping as he exited the high-rise apartment building. Kirk owed that to Spock. To slow down for just a minute. To articulate himself. He realized he owed so much more than that... but for now, it was a start.

 

* * *

 

Spock sat against the door, listening to Kirk’s footfalls as he walked away, eyebrows rising. He had only looked through the door’s peephole once, his decision to remain quiet firm. He would not be bribed, or lured, or won... Spock was firm on that matter, his resolve iron.  It had been painful ignoring Kirk...but for the first time in a while, Spock felt like he had won.

_Even if it felt like losing._

(He couldn’t resist, however, sneaking outside and carefully bringing in the orchid. Nurturingly, he had watered it, initially pruning its delicate leaves, setting it on the sill that “overlooked” his simulated Vulcan panorama. It would be nice to have _something_ from him, after he let go of everything else. After all.) 

 

* * *

 

Sarek’s living arrangements were much like Spock’s- airy, light, dry. Old Vulcan artifacts lined bookshelves, gifted to him as an elder by other displaced Vulcans. Most everything had been lost in the planet’s destruction, but occasionally new relics surfaced from rich, off world vaults. The atmosphere was distinctly... old, both in style and convention. While it made Spock nostalgic, it also made him tense, as though he were once again a boy, getting lectured in Sarek’s office for running off into the desert.  

Sarek himself paced behind his desk, head down in sagacious contemplation, fingers steepled. “Why now, Spock?” He finally asked, never looking up.

Spock remained sitting, poised. He knew he would be questioned; it was only right. “As one of the few remaining Vulcans alive, I would like to fully embrace my heritage and my people.”

“You did that, when you undertook the _kahs-wan_ as a child.”

“I did,” Spock agreed. “However, I also believe that I personally would benefit greatly from attempting the _Rite of_ _Kolinahr.”_

Sarek cleared his throat, finally pausing to look at his son. “You have already passed on this opportunity once. You seemed... logically content with Starfleet.”

Spock blinked, fighting to keep his face utterly blank. “My situation has since been altered, father. I seek a truly Vulcan path for myself and for my people.”

“Spock...” Sarek began, carefully, tactfully, “It is no mystery that I wished you to pursue _Kolinahr_ , and further, the Vulcan Science Academy years ago.  You know I would support you in this process.”

“It gladdens me to hear that, father.”

“However,” Sarek raised an eyebrow, “I do not wish that you undertake this process lightly. Or rashly.”

“I assure you,” Spock began, maybe too quickly, “I understand fully the consequences of my actions.” _Too well_ , he thought, silently.

“It will take years.” Sarek continued to caution, still unconvinced. “Years of meditation- prospectively in earth’s Gobi Desert, or the like.”

“A logical substitute location.” Spock agreed.

“You will likely need to resign your position at Starfleet.”

Spock blinked. “Understood.”

“Are you sure, Spock?” Sarek suddenly implored, a chip of his elder facade cracking away. “You have always been a rebellious child. Do not make a decision you will regret.”

The words almost refused to leave his lips, so close to a lie that his Vulcan nature nearly stopped them in his throat. “I cannot regret what is, logically, the best for me, father.”

 Sarek inspected his son, trying to find any sort of weakness in his placid face. He looked, foremost... exhausted, the father noted. Perhaps _Kolinahr_ was what Spock needed, he thought momentarily. However, Sarek was a wise man, an elder for a reason. He knew when his deeply hidden emotions were clouding his assumptions. Still, he could still hope.... Perhaps Spock was changing after all this time. Maybe his rebelliousness had finally burnt off. Maybe the weight of losing Vulcan had made him more responsible. Somehow, however, he very sincerely doubted that. Sighing, he pulled a few select books off his shelf and handed them to Spock. “I will make your travel arrangements for the end of the week. Prepare yourself,” he added. “Drink lots of water.”

“I will be ready, father.”

“I hope so.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading!


	4. Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for still reading, first of all! I'm going to start spacing out the rest of the chapters, so expect a few days between updates. Still,I hope you all like this chapter! It was a little tough to write, but I think it turned out okay in the end.

Leonard McCoy would never recognize it, but.... he was lonely.

It was something that had seeped into his bones ( _of course_ ), time etching it into the growing wrinkles on his face. Loneliness had become him, impalpably, insidiously; he hadn’t even seen it coming, the onset so slow and so cunning. _It was the divorce_ , he used to think dismissively, and that was almost certainly true. But that wound had mostly scabbed over. Now? Now, Bones mostly just felt out of place. Everywhere.

Well, everywhere except space. In space, he just felt sick.

_You’ll feel better when the_ Enterprise _is fixed up,_ he thought, bemoaning his temporary placement on earth- ironically. On the _Enterprise_ he would have his medical staff, his friends, Spock, and of course... Kirk. There would be adventures and scraped knees, mysteries and curiosities around each turn. He would forget about this whole loneliness business; he would forget that everyone had found someone but him.

Sighing, Bones kicked up his feet onto the ottoman, picking up his dog-eared book. Unashamedly, he liked the older western novels, mostly from the 21st century. The new ones were too realistic and modern, he’d often complained, featuring cyborg cattle and cowboys that could phase through barbed wire. He liked them when they focused on the grittiness of the south, before machinery and digital tech, when people had to rely on their ability to survive the elements, and when all the villains were obvious and hokey.  As a boy, Leonard had always wanted to either be a cowboy, or a doctor. It seemed that, in an abstract way, he had become both.

It was something to keep his mind occupied in his off hours, at least. There were certainly worse hobbies than reading antiquated novels. Maybe this week he would get the whole gang together for a potluck dinner, see what was up with Sulu, get updates on Uhura’s projects. Bones hadn’t seen everyone together in a while; and, maybe, that was why all hell was breaking loose with Kirk and Spock. Maybe, just maybe, all they needed was to be reminded they still had a family, the _Enterprise_. It was a naive hope, but, hell, it was something.

The phone rang.

Scowling, Bones looked up from his book, calling to the apartment’s computer interface. “Computer, who is it?”

“James Tiberius Kirk.”

Bones sighed. _Just when I was getting to the good part_ , he thought, putting his book down glumly. “Computer, answer. Jim, how’s it going?”

Kirk spoke immediately, skipping pleasantries. “Hey, have you heard from Spock lately?” His voice sounded a little distorted, like he was in an elevator, or under a bridge.

Bones snorted. “Good to hear from you too.”

“I’m serious, Bones, I haven’t seen him in days.”

“He’s pretty easy to spot. You know, weird eyebrows, pointy ears. Don’t forget that signature bowl cut.”

“ _Bones_ ,” Kirk groaned, “you’re killing me here.”

The doctor smiled. Sometimes it was just too easy. “Look, he’s probably in his apartment- moping if I had a guess.”

“Moping?” Kirk’s voice sounded disbelieving. “Why?”

Bones cleared his throat, his tone petulant. “Why do you think?”

A moment of silence. “ _Oh_.”

“’ _Oh’_ is right, Jimbo. You’ve really screwed it up this time.”

Kirk sighed loudly. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“Really? Spock didn’t take seeing you two lovebirds in that restaurant too well, _let me tell you_.” He paused, breathing for a moment, trying unsuccessfully to cool his blood. “I’m saying this as a friend, but you should be ashamed, Jim. Really.”

“Yeesh, I get it.” Kirk replied, “I’m trying to fix... things.”

“Good. Because you’re the only one that can.”

“Look, can you just answer the question about Spock?” Kirk finally snapped. “I’ve been stopping by his apartment now for a week now- no answer.”

Bones was taken aback, his offensive suddenly halted. “Damn. Really?”

“Weird right?”

“I’ll go check it out.” The words left Bones’ lips before he could stop them. He couldn’t help it- _he was a doctor_. He had to help.

“Thanks, man. You’re a life saver.”

Bones scowled silently at the unintended joke. “I’m not fixing this, okay? You’ve gotta _decide_ and stick with it.”

Kirk paused a moment, inhaling. “I know.”

“Good to hear it. I’ll call you back when I find Spock."

 

* * *

 

 

“Spock?” Bones knocked for the fifth time. “I know you’re there.”

Silence, _of course_. It was remarkable, the stubbornness.  

Bones sighed, grimacing. “Spock, you green blooded hobgoblin, _I know you’re in there_. I checked with the apartment security.”

After a few seconds, the door opened roughly, Spock finally defeated. “Yes, doctor?”

“Good,” Bones said smugly, “you’re still alive.”

  

* * *

 

 

“Can I make you any tea, doctor?”

Bones entered Spock’s apartment lightly, as though he were walking on eggshells. Everything felt wrong, or more articulately, he felt out of place, as though he were intruding on an aspect of Spock’s life he should not have seen, or even known existed. Most strikingly, the Vulcan was dressed in a roughly hewn sweater, made of hemp or some other organic fiber, a stark contrast to his usual prim, professional attire. Secondly, the apartment was dark- unnaturally so. It took Bones a moment to realize that every window was closed, even the one that displayed Vulcan’s lost home world. “No thanks,” Bones finally replied, shifting uneasily. Something was definitely wrong. “You planning a vacation?”

Spock followed Bones’ gaze, his eyes falling on the half filled trunk by the bedroom door, a mess of personal effects and clothing. “Of a sort, yes.”

“Something tells me you’re not interested in the Bahamas.”

Spock nodded gracefully, his eyes closing. “A correct assumption.”

“Neat,” Bones responded, unwilling to probe too directly. “Make sure to bring me back a cheap souvenir.”

“I’m afraid it is not that kind of vacation.”

Bones chuckled, “What? Family reunion?”

“No,” the Vulcan shook his head, “but the trip may be... quite long.”

Bones stepped forward, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. Something wasn’t right. “Huh. How long?”

“Two to six years. Maybe longer.” Spock sighed. “However long it takes.”

Bone’s head snapped back. “ _Years?_ _Are you out of your Vulcan mind?_ When were you plan on telling anyone about this?”

Spock’s cleared his throat. “I am telling you now, correct?”

“I mean Kirk!” Bones’ voice raised, disbelief creeping over his face. “What _is_ this?”

Spock tried to remain serene. He had been reading Sarek’s books, already beginning the process of centering himself fully, finding his calm in the midst of storms. It didn’t mean that his face wasn’t flushing green, however, that his eyes weren’t filling, that his hands weren’t shaking; they were. “It is the _Rite of Kolinahr_ , the Vulcan ritual that seeks to purge all emotions.”

Bones was quiet for a moment, his face a complex fusion of shock, rage, and incredulity. “Oh _hell no,”_ he finally replied, his lip curling. “ _Starfleet needs you_.”

Spock’s eyes narrowed, offended. “Starfleet is in possession of many excellent first officer candidates. My resignation from my position on the _Enterprise_ is both a personal decision and a choice to further embrace what little of my culture remains.”

“Resignation?!” Bones’ exclaimed, his mouth twisting. “This is absurd. You _can’t_ tell me this isn’t about Kirk.”

Spock finally broke, his voice seething with barely controlled anger. “And what would be the issue if it was?”

“You don’t get to run away from your life because of a little heartbreak.” Bones answered sternly, hands balled at his sides.

“I am not running awa-“

“Yes you are _!_ ”

Spock exhaled, his lip curling. “You did the same once, if memory serves, Doctor.”

Bones’ eyes darkened, a shaky hand running through his hair. “Hell, don’t bring my divorce into this. That was different, you understand?”

“But equally devastating.” The Vulcan replied, almost smugly. “As a doctor, you must understand the notion of cauterizing a wound.”

“You aren’t wounded, Spock. You’re scared.”

That gave him pause, his mouth opening to speak, and then promptly closing. “You are misinformed. I do not feel fear.”

“You felt fear when Kirk died.”

Spock swallowed, unsure of Bones’ angle. “I believe we all did.”

“You’re afraid of losing him twice. I know that.” Bones continued, meeting the Vulcan’s eyes sincerely. He knew what needed to be said, but was entirely unsure how to say it, how to articulate this truth that everyone, _everyone_ , on the _Enterprise_ understood, intrinsically, subconsciously, innately. _How could he not know_ , he asked himself. _How could the logical wiring of his brain miss such an obvious result, such a profoundly distinguished observation?_ His gaze dropped, his hand finding his brow, smoothing his temples in tired, troubled circles. “Spock...” He began, trying to be tactful, but failing regardless, “Spock, Kirk... loves you. He always has, somehow.”

Spock was taken aback, his Vulcan facade slipping for a moment. “I... do not understand.” 

Bones continued, the words falling from his lips before he could stop them. “I don’t know if he’s ever said it, but I know he thinks it. So there it is.” The fight had left the doctor suddenly, his limbs turning to lead, his mind fogged. “I know because it’s all I see. Whenever I try to hold his attention, it’s- it’s nothing. It’s always you. It’s _always been you.”_ In a matter of seconds, his grouchy pretense of malcontent had dissolved, leaving a man too exhausted to be bitter, too lonely to be comical. He had become transparent, like threadbare cotton.

Spock’s face softened, his eyes searching the doctor’s face. “You... favor the captain.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Doctor McCoy, I am sorry.” Spock said suddenly, trying to convey deepest sincerity. This revelation had been... surprising. But not unpredictable. After all, how could Spock assume that he was the only one trapped in the captain’s brilliance? _Maybe everyone is drawn, like an insect, to that light..._

“Forget I said anything.”

It was in that moment the gears finally clicked, the scales falling from Spock’s eyes. “I understand now. I understand why we...” His voice trailed off, unwilling to finish the thought.  _Like two people, lost in a storm_ , he thought, softly. That’s what they had been, like two people caught in the shockwaves and tremors of loss, understanding each other’s pains intrinsically, without recognizing its exact cause. Spock’s loss of Kirk had been sudden, like a rip or a tear. But Bones had lost Kirk slowly, over years perhaps, the pain only a dull, agonizing throb that rarely slowed and never yielded. “Thank you,” the Vulcan finally murmured, “for being there, for me.”

It dawned on Spock that no one had ever been there for Bones.

“It’s fine. Really.”

“Can I get you any tea?”

Bone almost laughed at that- but not really. Still, it was soothing to know that some things would never change. “No thanks. Are you still going to go to wherever?”

Spock swallowed. “Honestly? I am unsure. All I know is that I should.”

“Don’t do it,” Bones said, his eyes as vacant as glass. “If you lose him now, you’ll regret it forever.”

“I know,” Spock finally replied, biting his lip. “But after _Kolinahr_ , regret can turn to peace.”

Bones chuckled without humor. “It won’t work that way. Trust me.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm a big fan of comments and thoughts.


	5. Part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are still enjoying reading this! This is a nice, long chapter with a lot of things going on. In terms of the overall story, I would say the fic is now at its midpoint (but it's hard to say because I'm still cutting/adding/modifying content). Anyway, enjoy!

_[Three weeks prior.]_

“Relax. It’s just an induced coma.”

Spock paused in the doorway, swallowing nervously, his palms sweaty. Was he ready? He knew he wasn’t; it wasn’t really a question. His presence wasn’t prudent, he realized, still too emotionally compromised to behave logically.  Spock had realized his mistake five steps into the hospital’s front door, before he had even met the receptionist, before even seeing Bones. Actually, he had already started to leave, digging his hands into his pockets, trying to look inconspicuous- but it was no good. Bones saw him from the waiting area, dragging him into the elevator and up to Kirk’s medical suite.

It would be too much to see Kirk die twice.

Spock eyed the sleeping body on the bed from a distance, uncertain if he should come closer. “Will he make it?” He finally asked, quietly. He was afraid that if he spoke louder his voice might break.

“Jim’s not dead yet. But hell if I know what that means.”

Spock stepped forward, his eyes never leaving Kirk. “They say his brain went without oxygen for several minutes.”

Bones shrugged, forcing his hands into his medical scrubs. “I’m worried about that too.”  

_The second hand on the hospital clock ticked, a nurse walked by outside, her footsteps squeaking on the floor. One of the petals fell from a flower arrangement on Kirk’s bedside table._

“Thank you, “ Spock said, forcing a break to the morbid silence. “For making the serum.”

Bones cracked a weary half smile. “Can’t take all the credit; Khan’s blood did most of the work. But thank you for collecting the raw ingredients.”

Spock’s lips twitched. “It was my pleasure.”

“If it works, it’ll be the best damn thing I’ve ever done as a doctor.”

“And bringing back Khan alive will be mine as a first officer.”

Bones simply scratched his forehead, shaking his head as he turned to inspect Kirk’s vitals on the monitor. “Funny where our priorities lie in the grand scheme.”

“Humorous indeed.” Spock swallowed. He did not find it particularly humorous, and he suspected Bones felt the same.

Stepping forward, Spock took the lull in the conversation to study Kirk.  The Vulcan realized he had never seen the captain sleeping, and as such, the sight was peculiar. Usually so wide-eyed and full of excitement, Kirk looked.... peaceful, his features relaxed. Spock had always hoped to see this aspect of Kirk, but, of course, under better circumstances. He sighed. “Based on my current medical knowledge of the situation, there is a 50.0002 percent chance he will recover. I will remain here until the outcome is resolved.”

Bones looked up from his charts, a single eyebrow raised. “You what?”

Spock was patient. “Is there a cot I could potentially procure?”

“People will talk.” The doctor crossed his arms.

“Let them. I will stay regardless.”  

 

* * *

 

“Spock?”

Sarek’s voice cut through the memory, jogging him away from his reverie.  He blinked the visions from his eyes. “Yes, father?”

“You were slumping,” he chided, calmly. “When you undertake the _rite_ you will have to be more focused.”

“Of course,” Spock agreed, wincing internally. He hadn’t even left yet and was already struggling to remain emotional composure.

“Are you having doubts yet?”

Spock bowed his head gracefully. “None, father. I will be grateful to leave.”

 

* * *

 

Carol laughed, her eyes lighting up. “More!” She giggled, “You have to tell me more stories.”

Kirk grinned wryly, enjoying the attention. “What? Don’t you have stories of your own?”

She shook her head. “Sadly, my life has been sheltered from adventure. Trapped in labs mostly. That’s the fate of most weapons specialists.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you wound up on the _Enterprise_ then.” Kirk smiled. He knew he _should_ have put his arm around her shoulders, or at least run a hand through her hair. That’s what he normally would have done, on any other days, in any other mood. Today, however, it didn’t feel right.

Carol sighed. “I’ve had enough adventure for a while. This last one was... rough.”

“Right.” Kirk agreed, afraid to broach the subject of Admiral Marcus. His death had been hard on Carol, even if he had made glaring, unethical mistakes. He sighed comically, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, at least there’s a break while she’s getting repairs.”

Carol looked quizzical. “She?”

“My girl, the love of my life. _The Enterprise_.”

“Ah,” Carol giggled, “ _Of course_. I hope you’re not worried about making her jealous.”

Kirk’s eyebrows furrowed, though still smiling. _She’s quick_ , he thought, _much more informed than she lets on_. “For a ship she’s very lenient,” he finally managed. “But I shouldn’t act like the _Enterprise_ and I are a _thing_. Scotty might kill me.”

“Ah, so he’s the jealous one?”

“Ohh yes,” Kirk replied. “I’m sure he’ll be yelling at me for keeping her past Warp 4 soon enough.”

Tittering, Carol picked her wine glass off the coffee table, taking a polite sip. “So tell me about the rest of your crew. I feel like I’ve never really met them.”

“Well,” Kirk began, trying to think of something to say, “there’s Scotty. You met Scotty briefly, right? He runs the engines- keeps everything going. Then there’s....”

“Uhura!” Carol added, helpfully.

“Yep, there’s Uhura. She’s on communications.”

“And.. Spock.”

Kirk swallowed. “Yeah, you two have definitely met.”

“Tell me about Spock,” Carol urged, a soft smile on her lips. “He seems interesting... though I think he dislikes me.”

“I don’t think Spock _dislikes_ you.” Kirk shrugged, grabbing his beer. “I think he just felt threatened.”

“Threatened?” Carol sputtered, laughing. “That’s absolutely ridiculous. Why?”

Kirk cleared his throat, trying to navigate the treacherous waters of this conversation. _Sharp as a damn tack_ , he thought again. “Well, you know, it’s Spock. He doesn’t like too many science officers in the kitchen.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Trust me,” Kirk reassured her, reminiscing with a smile, “he’ll warm up. He used to hate me too.”

“Really?” Carol looked mildly surprised. “What was that like?”

“Cold. He marooned me on an icy moon.”

“Is that... standard protocol on the _Enterprise_?” Carol asked jokingly, taking another sip of her wine.

Kirk grinned. “Not yet, at least. I could make some modifications.”

Carol scooted forward, not terribly conspicuously. _I really should make a move_ , Kirk thought, taking a swig of his beer. Somehow, however, his heart just wasn’t into it. Carol was charming and clever and _nice_ , but for some reason, that wasn’t enough tonight. He took another gulp of his beer, trying to coerce himself into a better mood.

_“You’ve gotta decide and stick with it,” Bones’ voice drifted into his thoughts, unbidden._

“What?” Kirk’s eyebrows furrowed, trying to blink away his inattention.

“Oh,” Carol repeated, “I was just saying I wanted to know more about Spock. You two seem close.”

“ _I’m saying this as a friend, but you should be ashamed, Jim. Really_.”

Kirk shook his head. “Spock is... how do I say it? He’s brilliant. That’s it really.”

Carol giggled. “Come on! We all know that.”

The smile had left Kirk’s lips, his hands going cold, his mouth dry. “We’re the same you know? It’s crazy, because it looks like...like we’re so different- on the outside, I mean.” He inhaled, rubbing his eyes. “Everything I lack as a captain, I find in him.”

“Like a mirror?”

_Like we’re the same cosmic matter, created by the same exploding star._ But Kirk didn’t say that. Kirk didn’t even truly think that, consciously at least. That didn’t mean it wasn’t there, however, buried behind layers and layers and layers or nonchalance and indifference. It was there and Bones was right. He knew he needed to _decide and stick with it._

“Carol, I have to go. There’s some paperwork I need to fill out before tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

“Jim, you there?”

“Bones?” Kirk answered his phone wearily. He had driven his bike home from Carol’s, the wind chaffing his face, drying his hands. “What’s up?”

“Spock’s leaving.” Bones sounded out of breath, as though he were running, as though he couldn’t speak fast enough.

Kirk scowled. “Slow down, buddy. What’s going on with Spock?”

“He’s.. he’s.. leaving.”

“Leaving?” Kirk’s eyebrow rose. “You’re going to have to give me more than that.”

Bones huffed. “Dammit, Jim. He’s going to resign. He’s going to do some Vulcan ritual or whatever.”

Kirk was still incredulous. Yet... the pit of his stomach dropped.  _This is something Spock would do._ “Resigning? Are you sure this isn’t some joke?”

“Do you think Spock ‘jokes?’”

Kirk couldn’t help it. “But, _why?_ ” He finally asked, a befuddled hand ripping through his short hair.

“It’s kolin.. kolin-something.” Bones tried to explain, inarticulately. “It’s supposed to purge emotion, completely.”

Kirk’s eyes widened. “ Jesus, he’s really doing it, isn’t he?”

“Hate to be the messenger, Jim.”

Kirk swallowed, adrenaline coursing through his system, his mind racing. “What should I do, what should I-“

“ _Fix this_ ,” Bones interrupted.

Kirk growled, exasperated, “I-I. I’m trying.” Scrunching his eyes shut, he tried to find an answer in the fog, grasping at straws in his mind, trying to see the _right_ path through the starry haze. _If only it was easy as choosing,_ he thought. _If only I knew the right words, if only I could make myself stop... running._ “I’ll go see him tomorrow.”

“Jim, Spock leaves tomorrow.”

_Skin can turn to ice, then crystal, then glass._ “Where is he going?”

“The Gobi Desert. For a few years.”

Kirk cursed under his breath. “Thanks Bones. For letting me know.”

Bones sighed. “I called you as soon as I could.” 

“I’ll fix this. I’ll try.”

Kirk hung up, terrified and tired, yet somehow, still in doubt. _Spock couldn’t leave... he loves the Enterprise. He loves... the crew._ Kirk didn’t even take his riding coat off, walking back outside and jumping on his hover scooter. As the night sky sprawled out above him, he sped down the road, flying.

 

* * *

 

Spock was fast asleep, dark hair just out of his eyes, a hand curled around the edge of his pillow. He wasn’t dreaming, thankfully; the alternative tended to be much worse these days.

“Spock?” Kirk’s voice was muffled by the door, but still loud enough to wake the Vulcan from a dead sleep. _He’s going to wake the neighbors_ , Spock thought, lethargically pulling himself from the warmth of his bed. He knew he should dress himself too, but he couldn’t muster the effort at this hour, instead pulling on his robe, tying the strap around his waist, knotting it. “Just a moment,” Spock called, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He wasn’t sure what to expect from this visit, though he estimated its cause. _Jim dislikes losing_ , Spock considered; _he especially dislikes losing people_.

“Can I help you?” Spock asked blithely, opening the door.

“Yeah,” Kirk responded, nodding and out of breathe. “Hope you don’t mind. I’m coming in.”

With that, the human pushed his way inside the apartment, walking past Spock and sitting down haphazardously at the breakfast table. Spock scowled, trying to keep pace. “I’m sorry, Jim. It is very late. Are you sure this is not something we couldn’t discuss at a later date?”

“When, Spock? When.” His voice was angry, Spock registered. Perhaps livid. “When does your flight leave,” Kirk continued, hotly. “Tomorrow?”

“At noon.” Spock tilted his head, blinking. “Is that a problem?”

Kirk leaned back, his breath hitching. He could have sworn his heart skipped a beat, or at least tripped. “So it’s true.”

“Apparently so.”

“As first officer of the _Enterprise_ you have to give me notice of your resignation. You know that.”

Spock almost smiled, if cruelly. Two could play this game, and unfortunately for Kirk, Spock knew the rules better than anyone. “The _Enterprise_ is currently decommissioned for repairs. As such, my status of first officer is on hold. I am merely a professor at the Academy and they are aware of my departure.”

“Hold up,” Kirk growled, “you told the Academy before you told me?”

Spock remained serene, if smugly so. “Of course. I was following protocol.”

Kirk was at a loss then. His mouth agape, he let his eyes search the room, confused and stunned. Finally, his gaze fell on the Vulcan. “Spock, why are doing this. This isn’t you.”

Spock straightened, maintaining his resolve. “I must do what is best.”

“For who? You?”

“Yes, me,” Spock sighed. “I do not expect you to understand.”

“Spock, I _do_ understand.”

Spock was taken aback, anger creeping under his skin. “Do you?”

Kirk leaned back in his seat, hands fidgeting in his lap. “You’re angry. I get that. You have every right.”

“As do you, Captain _._ You have every right to live your personal life as you see fit. And,” he continued, his voice dripping acid, “I have every right to respond accordingly.”

Kirk’s frustration bubbled. “Does seeing me with another woman really bother you that much?”

_"Yes_!” Spock spoke before he could stop himself. When he looked down, his fist was on the table, leaned forward aggressively. Exhaling, he stepped back, his cheeks flushing green. There was silence between them, both aware their veneers of civility were beginning to crack. Spock’s blood was boiling, but Kirk’s was turning to ice.

“Why?”

Spock’s lip curled, his voice barely controlled. “Because.” He cleared his throat, trying again. “Because it means there was _something lacking._ ”

“Oh, Spock.” Kirk sighed, “That’s not true. You know it.”

“Then _why_? Why her?”

Kirk swallowed. This was it, _emotions._ Or really, verbalizing their subtle nuances (that’s what scared him). He might as well have been trying to speak Klingon. “I... I was afraid.”

Spock’s expression softened, despite himself. “Of?”

Kirk was about to speak. _Of being..._  his voice faltered. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Spock repeated, his eyebrows dropping, disgust and disbelief rising like bile in his throat. _It doesn’t matter_. In the blink of an eye, his skin had become glass- cold, hard, utterly unreachable. _It doesn’t matter_. Blood rushed from through his ears, vision turning green, nails digging into his palms. _It doesn’t matter_?

_Click._

Regret coiled in Kirk’s stomach.

“It’s not like that. It- it matters. I just...” He tripped over his own tongue. “I just don’t know what to say, okay? I don’t know what to say to make it right.”

“You need not say anything anymore.”

“I do!” Kirk protested. “I’ll leave Carol. I’ll do it right now. Whatever!” He flung his arms out dramatically, trying to regain some ground.

_Click_. There was a disconnect, their minds usually beating as one, now derailed, asymmetrical, adverse. Some bit of the machinery had been knocked out of place, like a wrench in the gears, _like a warp core misaligned_. They could usually complete each other’s thoughts, like connecting data points or stars- but now? Glass could be made in the minds of men.  

“It is not about Carol anymore.” Spock crossed his arms. “I am more preoccupied with your emotions and their intentions towards myself.”

“Spock,” Kirk rubbed his eyes, exasperated. “You know how I feel about you. _You know_ , okay? I know you know.”

Spock interrupted him. “But I do not.” The Vulcan turned away, preparing to open the front door for Kirk’s departure.

“Spock, wait!” Kirk leapt from his seat, grabbing Spock’s hand.

The Vulcan recoiled.

Snapping his hand back, he shuddered, a violent shiver running down his spine. _That was private_. Kirk knew that, _how Vulcan’s regarded hands_ , and yet, he had just leapt and grabbed... Before he could even speak, cruel words escaped Spock’s lips, his shock and violation channeled into barbed confessions. “Captain, _please_. Even Doctor McCoy was courteous enough to not touch me without asking.”

Kirk froze. “You and.... you and Bones?”

Spock cleared his throat. “He was there for me when you were not.”

“ _You-_ “

“Captain, do not blame Doctor McCoy. He was trying to help.”

“ _I can’t believe_ -“

“Captain,” Spock finally raised his voice, “ _you simply do not understand_.”

Kirk looked like he was going to be sick. “No, you’re right. I don’t.”

“Do you know how it feels to watch the person you... the person you care for, die?” Spock’s tone started strong, but began to break, eventually a frail husk of its original sternness.  “ _I watched you die_. I was not ready to lose you again. Or even once.” He stepped forward, continuing. “ _I choose to never feel that way again_.”

Kirk said nothing, swallowing all the words and accusations that had become ensnared in his throat. Spock had crystalized into glass, and he was beyond his reach, dropped from orbit, turning into a supernova before his eyes. _Like a mirror_ , Kirk thought, _two deaths, not one._

“Goodbye, Jim,” Spock finally said, opening the front door. “I will write you.”

“Goodbye.. Spock,” Kirk finally said, reluctantly, letting himself linger in the doorframe. “Just remember, when you’re in that god awful desert... you’re not nothing to me, Spock. You are...” _Everything._

He walked away, and the door clicked shut. 


	6. Part 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the update delay. I was moving across the country and yada yada yada excuses excuses. Anyway, here's the chapter. From here on out things are going to move pretty fast. Also, thanks for the comments so far! It means a lot that people are interested in this story and its direction!

_Knuckles grazed his jaw, fingers running down his throat. Slowly, the hand opened, wrapping ever so slowly, so gently, around his neck. The fingers were long, reaching the nape of his neck easily, just barely tickling his hair. This was the feeling of warmth, Kirk thought, of safety and comfort, of being touched and being felt, softly._

_Blindly running his hand along Spock’s arm, he felt the lax muscles, usually so tense and wiry. Under his light touch they twitched, as though still unaccustomed to human contact. Kirk would change that, he thought, Spock’s thumb running lightly over the indent of his throat. Kirk would change that._

“Kirk?”

The captain was jogged from the memory sharply, swallowing as he returned to the present. In the bright light of the office lobby, Uhura stood across the room, calling him promptly from her clipboard. As always, she wore a professional smile, her hair swinging in its ponytail

“Uhura,” Kirk said, standing up, “thanks for meeting with me on such short notice.”

She nodded politely, her lips pursing in amusement. “Like I could deny a fifteen minute meeting to the captain of the _Enterprise_.”

“I’m sure you _could_. What are you up to, anyway?” Kirk followed her through the doorway, trying to keep pace with her long strides.

“I am working on a paper that discusses the similarities between _Andorii_ and _Graalek_.”

“Ah,” Kirk murmured appreciatively, despite his eyes rolling. “Seems, uh, interesting.”

“The Andorians have a rich linguistic culture.”

“I’m _sure_ they do.”

Uhura smiled knowingly. “Not that you would care.”

Without warning, she turned sharply to face Kirk, catching the captain off guard. They had paused before an office door, apparently their destination. Before Kirk could speak, Uhura opened the door for him, ushering him inside without a word. Kirk was immediately hit with the pleasant smell of spices, rich and decadent, yet delicate. The office itself was spacious, a luxurious study, utterly modern. Bay windows revealed a well-groomed garden, while another wall displayed a holographic screen of scrolling cuneiform, the strange ciphers mesmerizingly shifting within their digital media. 

Kirk sat down in the nearest chair across from the desk, scoffing. “Hey, what’s not to love about Andorians, right?”

“I have always been interested in the movements of their antennae. I have found that, subconsciously, they function as a facet of their spoken language. But,” Uhura sat down across from Kirk, smoothing out her skirt before continuing, “that’s not why you’re here today. What can I help you with, captain?”

Kirk smiled appreciatively. “I need help locating a certain Vulcan.”

Uhura’s eyebrows knitted. “Spock?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

Uhura leaned back in her seat, anger flashing delicately across her face. “In light of recent events, it’s not my job to keep track of First Officer Spock.”

Kirk winced. “But maybe you have anyway?”

“I thought you two were close.”

“We...” Kirk’s nostrils flared, trying to ignore the obvious jab. “We are having a small disagreement.”

“Over?”

Kirk shot a beleaguered glance her way. “You know, _stuff_.”

Uhura nodded, almost smiling smugly. “Oh really? Stuff?”

“Yeah, you know, just some small things. Nothing serious.”

“Uh huh. _Right_.”

“Okay, okay, okay.” Kirk waved in resignation, “We’re fighting.”

Uhura steepled her fingers on her desk, a wry smile blooming on her face. “Wonder what that’s like.”

Kirk could only laugh. “Well, now we both know.”

Uhura didn’t have much to say to that, her eyes dropping. “So you want me to help you find him?”

“That would, uh, yeah. That would be right.”

“Have you tried asking him?”

Kirk’s eyes attentively inspected the ceiling. “That wouldn’t go over so well.”

“I see.”

Kirk grunted. “Don’t be so smug.”

“I’m not being smug!” Uhura sniffed with amusement. “But I am allowed to laugh.”

“I assure you, “ Kirk leaned forward, striking an earnest pose, “this is not a joke of a situation. What if it were the _Enterprise_ that were missing?”

“That’s easy. She would be wherever you are.” Her lips pursed. “But I would have said the same thing about Spock.”

Kirk said nothing for a moment, his hands fidgeting in his lap. “It’s pretty serious.”

“I’ll do my best, Captain,” Uhura replied, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.  “You should talk to Chekhov too. He was working with Spock on some mathematical theories.”

“Will do.” Kirk said quickly, taking a mental note. “Uhura? Thank you. Really.”

“It’s not a problem,” she answered, standing up to get the door for Kirk. “I’ll try to get back to you before the end of today.”

“I couldn’t do this without you.”

Uhura laughed knowingly. “Sure you could. But I’m faster.”

 

* * *

 

_Knuckles grazed his jaw, fingers running down his throat. Slowly, the hand opened, wrapping ever so slowly, so gently, around his throat. The fingers were long, reaching the nape of his neck easily, just barely tickling his hair. This was the feeling of warmth, Kirk thought, of safety and comfort, of being touched and being felt, softly._

_Blindly running his hand along Spock’s arm, he felt the lax muscles, usually so tense and wiry. Under his light touch they twitched, as though still unaccustomed to human contact. Kirk would change that, he thought, Spock’s thumb running lightly over the indent of his throat. Kirk would change that._

_The pressure increased, and Spock’s hands tightened their grip, their gentle massage becoming more and more sinister._

_“Spock?”_

_Kirk opened his eyes, looking up at the Vulcan above him. His face was... well, it was serene, collected.... vacant. Suddenly, Kirk choked, Spock’s hands clamping down. “Spock- Spock let go,” he wheezed, trying to pry the Vulcan’s hands from his neck._

_Spock only tightened his grip, his face contorting into utter, unabashed fury. He held Kirk there, his iron vice only tightening, his superior strength too much for earth’s gravity. Kirk could only feebly scratch at his hands, try to rip them away finger by finger, nail by nail. Every moment his strength was waning, his organs screaming for oxygen as they shut down. Seconds felt like minutes, and minutes felt like hours. He couldn’t sustain himself, he realized, his eyes watering, his nose running messily._

_As darkness drifted into his vision, Kirk stopped his struggling, his muscles going lax. With a resigned sigh, his hands fell, ever so quietly, on top of Spock’s, even as they still pinned him, still coaxed the life from him. He tried to search Spock’s eyes, for a reason- for anything. It was hard, especially considering his heart was beginning to falter, his brain not receiving enough blood._ Maybe it was fair _, Kirk could only think, peering into the absolute fury that radiated from Spock’s eyes._ Maybe this is how it should go.That it ends like this _. If he could have breathed, or spoken, Kirk would have laughed._

_He always needed air._

_Just the Enterprise needed air, or really a vacuum, or really- space. Maybe that was all he could really love, the feeling of being free, of being infinite and cosmic. Maybe that’s why he and Spock couldn’t be.... he couldn’t finish that thought._

_At least here, in this moment, he dimly realized, as darkness swallowed_

_his last thoughts, there wasn’t_

_any glass._

Kirk woke up, alone, his sheets tangled and knotted. He could still feel the hands around his throat, the icy chill of death, seeping deeper and deeper into his bones.  _It’s not going to get any easier, is it?_

  

* * *

 

When Bones left for work in the morning, he tripped, his yawn cut short as he stepped out his front door.

On his doorstep, neatly wrapped and packaged, was his coat, as well as an umbrella. Bones supposed he’d left the coat at Spock’s- and the umbrella? Maybe that was a gift. When Bone’s brought them inside, he realized Spock probably wouldn’t need an umbrella, wherever he was going.

 

* * *

 

“Kirk?”

He answered the phone sleepily, still in bed, still exhausted. “Yes?”

“It’s Uhura. I’ve got a location on Spock.”

Kirk sat bolt upright in bed, the air of his bedroom brisk against his bare chest. “Where is he?”

“ _Rub' al Khali_.”

Kirk ran a hand through his hair. “Excuse me?”

“It’s in Saudi Arabia.”

“S-Saudi Arabia,” Kirk shook his head, trying to process the information.

“It’s the largest sand desert in the world, with some areas of salt flats-“

“Red.”

Uhura paused. “What?”

Kirk swallowed. “It’s like Vulcan, isn’t it? Red?”

“Much like the lowlands surrounding the Mountains of Gol, Captain.”

_He really was going to...._ “Thank you, Uhura,” Kirk tried to speak, but his voice just felt stilted, devoid of its usual levity. “Can I ask how you found out?”

On the other end of the line, Uhura smiled. “Captain, I simply _asked him._ ”

 

* * *

 

**Forwarded To: James Tiberius Kirk**

**Original Recipient: Nyota Uhura**

**From: ST Spock**

Nyota,

Thank you for your inquiry regarding my travel plans. I had hoped we might be able to meet before I left; however, I found myself detained by work and other matters. With regret, I will not be returning to my post as First Officer aboard the _Enterprise_. Instead, I am resigning my position to achieve _Kolinahr_ and be among the first Vulcans to attempt the rite on earth, its deserts serving as a surrogate for Vulcan. Since you have asked, the desert chosen is _Rub' al Khali_ , in earth’s Saudi Arabia. I will have access to communications, though I cannot predict the frequency of their availability. I wish you and the rest of the crew of the _Enterprise_ the best of luck in your future voyages.

-Spock

 

* * *

 

Carol Marcus.

Ever warm, ever precise, ever _brave_. People often forgot that behind her kind smiles and coiffed hair, she was stubborn, strong- fiercely so. She had gotten that from her father, she supposed. But she tried not to think about her father. Too much.

If only he had gotten a hero’s death.

_If only she could grieve like a normal person and not feel guilty._

Taking a sip of her cocktail, she sighed, rubbing the back of her neck, letting her long nails lightly scrape her skin. Everyone was looking for weakness, looking for the crack that betrayed her careful facade. _Just like her_ father, they would think, or worse, that she might _sympathize_ with the poor man. When did a daughter mourning her father become a sin? Was his sin really that awful?

Carol knew the answer. _Yes_. _He was that terrible._

But that didn’t make it any easier.

And late at night, as Carol tinkered with a new torpedo design- something that could only destroy and would never create... she wondered how much of her father still lived in her, buried... slumbering.

She took another sip of her cocktail.

Kirk was ten minutes late. She checked her watch again. _Eleven_. This wasn’t unusual for Kirk; he was, after all, a rather spontaneous individual. However, she _knew_.

Jim wasn’t a settler. He was in love with the _Enterprise_ and the space that kept her aloft, with the stars that flew past the window at warp. He was in love with his crew- _all of them_. He was in love with freedom, bending the rules, and living in the present. He was in love with.... Well. He was in love with Spock.

At least, that’s what she had heard from the grapevine.

And that was okay. She was _okay_ , a mantra that was accompanied with another, heavier sip of her cocktail. She had known from the beginning. She had always known...

“Carol?”

A broad smile brightened her face as she stood up, hugging Kirk. She buried her face into his shoulder, smelling the musky scent he somehow always exuded. He was always warm. That had been nice. “Jim! How are you?”

“Oh, fine,” Kirk smiled stiffly, disengaging from the hug. “Thanks for meeting me. I was hoping we could chat over drinks.”

Carol nodded enthusiastically. “Sure- anything on your mind?”

Kirk took a seat. “I think it’s time we... _talk_.”

She knew. 


	7. Part 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to get this update up asap since I know the last one was sort of not that exciting. Anyway, I had a lot of fun with this chapter so~ hope you enjoy it!

Uhura had stopped by earlier, a box of papers in her arms. “Hard copies are easier to leaf through,” she had suggested, unceremoniously plopping the box on Kirk’s kitchen table.

“What’s all this?” Kirk had asked, still wiping the sleep from his eyes. He had thrown on a pair of khakis and a sweater, a cup of coffee gripped tightly in white knuckles.

“It’s potential candidates- references, cover letters-“

Kirk cleared his throat. “Can’t this wait until the afternoon?”

Uhura rolled her eyes. “It _is_ the afternoon, captain.”

Kirk sighed, walking over to the box with pouty resignation. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

Uhura stepped smoothly to his side, pulling out stapled documents and laying them on the table neatly. “I’m sure Doctor McCoy could help with that.”

“He couldn’t.” Kirk’s eyes dropped, reading the name on paper before him, trying to avoid small talk. “Keith Aguera. Served on the _USS Farragut._ ”

“He’s an expert in transporter technology.”

“Impressive,” Kirk replied, with a tone indicating it was anything but impressive.

Uhura groaned dejectedly, sitting down before putting her forehead into her hands. “Look, Jim, you need a new first officer. You need to take this seriously.“

“Why?” Kirk shrugged, dropping the paper in his hand. “Why can’t I just promote someone already on board? Why not Sulu, you- anybody?”

“That would be... inappropriate,” Uhura bit her lip. “The crew needs someone without any bias to fill the position.”

Kirk’s exhaustion and frustration bubbled, putting down his cold coffee on the table forcefully. “No _, no_. The crew needs _Spock_. It doesn’t matter who the hell I pick.”

Uhura couldn’t help but smile sadly, her instinct to comfort Kirk overwhelming, despite his unattractive outburst. “I think _you_ need Spock.”

Kirk stopped, taking a moment to scrutinize Uhura with his eyes. _They were honest_ , he noted, _without guise or ruse or any pointed jab_. “Is it... is it that obvious?”

Uhura reached across the table, taking Kirk’s hand as he sat down. “To me, it is.”

Kirk pulled his hand away, suddenly embarassed. “Jesus, I don’t know what to do. Everything is so fucked right now. I can’t even look at this.” He pushed the box of papers away, almost disgusted.

“I know,” Uhura sympathized slowly, “this is... tough.”

“It’s more than tough. I feel like I’m losing it, like I’m going crazy or something.”

“Have you talked to McCoy? He might have some advice?”

Kirk’s eyes darkened. “I don’t want to talk to Bones right now.”

Uhura’s eyebrow rose. “Don’t push people away. This is why...” She stopped herself.

“This is why I lost Spock? Really?” Indignation crept into his voice.

“That’s not what I meant. But you need all the support you can get right now. How’s Carol?”

Kirk chewed his tongue. “We split yesterday.”

Uhura inhaled sharply. “Okay, well, you still have other support.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, Kirk. You look... you look dead.”

“Thanks,” Kirk grumbled sarcastically. “Just what I needed. To look dead.”

“Do you want my help?” Uhura shook her head, lips pursing. “Or do you need space?”

“I need both.” Kirk picked at some crumbs on the table. “I guess.”

Uhura didn’t say anything for a while, just studying the lines on Kirk’s face. They were worn and weathered and more threadbare than she had ever seen them. It was as though something had sucked the vitality out of him, leaving him husk-like and hollow. She could read his body language all day, pick apart his word choice, classify his tonal expression... but she couldn’t speak the same language. Finding the right words to shake Kirk awake would be like speaking High Orion after one lesson. “Let’s look at a few more of these bios,” she tried again helpfully, pushing a paper in front of Kirk. “This is Saavik- half Vulcan, half Romulan. She’s been a promising cadet.”

Kirk’s lip curled. “I don’t want a replacement Spock.”

“I’ve worked with Saavik. She’s got a level head. And she wouldn’t be a replacement for Spock _.”_

“I’m not doing this.”

“Kirk-“

Pushing his chair back, Kirk stood up, sliding all the papers back into the box. “ _I’m not doing this_ ,” he repeated, more cogently. “I quit. I’m done.”

“You’re not _done_ ,” Uhura finally snarled. “What happened to no-win scenarios?”

_Of course she would bring that up,_ Kirk thought with a curl of his lip. More than anything, he wanted to yell, explode, say something self pitying and hurtful, but the words caught in his throat. Rather, another idea took root. “No, you’re right.”

“I...am?” Uhura was caught off guard.

 “No, you’re right.” Kirk continued, “I’m going to find him.”

Uhura stood up slowly from her seat. “With all due respect, captain, but... _what_?”

“I’m going to go to Kal- whatever.”

“ _Rub' al Khali_?”

“Tomorrow. Maybe the next day.”

Uhura stepped towards Kirk. “I can’t say that’s what I meant to suggest. Are you... sure?”

“I’m not going to settle, Nyota. I’m not going to step foot onto the _Enterprise_ without Spock. I _can’t_.”

“Well...It might not be that easy. It’s Spock’s choice.”

“I know.” Kirk smiled, a bit brokenly. “But I have to try. Right?”

Uhura couldn’t help but crack a half-smile. It was nice to see his eyes light up again, glittering like they used to- like they were _alive_. “I hope you succeed.”

“Me too.” 

 

* * *

 

But Kirk had another matter to attend to first. Bones.

_This wouldn’t be easy._

He inhaled, then exhaled, wiped his brow, picked his teeth. Centering himself, he knocked on the apartment door.

“Jim?” Bones answered the door a moment later, still in his medical tunic, his work shoes still on. “What’s going on?”

“Spock,” Kirk shrugged.

Bones swallowed. “I figured. You want to come inside?”

Kirk nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. We have some stuff to talk about.”

 

* * *

  

“He’s really gone?”

“Gone.” Kirk nodded, taking a sip of Bones’ mint julep and politely putting it down. He realized he had only been inside Bones’ apartment once before. It was surprisingly homey, but it reeked of single living. Kirk could tell that visitors were very, very infrequent.

“That’s a damn shame,” Bones replied, shaking his head. “Best first officer in the fleet.”

“Yeah, I know.”

An awkward silence. Kirk wasn’t sure when or how to bring _it_ up, that Bones and Spock had been... _close_. Kirk liked to phrase it that way in his mind. _Close_. He shut his eyes, scrunching them together, trying to purge the image from his mind, trying to swallow the hollow feeling that expanded in his throat. “I have to ask,” Kirk finally spoke, breaking the silence, “about you and Spock. Together.”

Bone’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Then, his gaze dropped. “You mean...?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “That’s what I mean.”

“Jim, I don’t know what tell you,” Bones spoke quickly, leaning forward apologetically. “It just.. it just happened.”

Kirk’s mouth twisted, biting his lip. “But.... how? How does something like that just _happen?”_

“He was hurt. He needed company. He needed something to hold onto, you know?” Bones sighed, “I was just... I just happened to be there.”

“How?” Kirk asked again, without realizing it, the words escaping his lips too quickly. “How could you? How could.... _How._ ”

“He’s my friend too, Jim. He was.... destroyed.”

Kirk nodded silently, swallowing. “Was it..” He cleared his throat again. “Was it-“

“Serious?”

“Yeah. Serious.”

“Jim, I swear, it wasn’t. We were both just, uh. Lost.”

Kirk breathed, trying to focus on the air exiting and entering his lungs. “I....” _Like wind and the silent howl of a vacuum._ “I understand.”

Bones’ gaze rose, wary surprise lifting his eyebrows. “We were both....We were both.. I don’t know. I understand too.”

“I’ve been selfish,” Kirk managed. “I just can’t _stop_ , you know? But you knew.”

“I know you better than I know myself, Jim. You’re selfish, but you’re great.”

“What does that mean?” Kirk’s voice cracked. “What does it mean to be great when the things that matter just.... slip through your fingers?”

Bones swallowed. “You’re afraid. It’s okay. To be scared.”

“I’m not just scared,“ Kirk protested weakly, “I’m terrified. Not because I lost Spock.. but because I really don’t think I can ever get him back.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Bones squinted. “But things are pretty rough right now.”

“You know, I’m going over there. To see his _Kolinahr_.”

Bones picked up his drink from the coffee table, unsure what to say. “That’s great- but are you sure that’s... wise? He might not take kindly to be interrupted. And neither will papa Spock.”

“I can handle Sarek. Spock himself? I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what kind of Spock I’m going to find when I get there.”

Bones sighed. “Well, _Kolinahr_ does take a long time. It’s not a damn light switch. I googled it.”

Kirk gesticulated with frustration, “But he’ll still be.... gone, in a way. And I still don’t know what to say.”

Bones grimaced. “Well, that is a problem. You’ve gotta _communicate_.”

“I don’t communicate well; I just go for it and _act_.”

Bones shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. I want to help- you know that. It’s the least I can do.”

“I need to order my thoughts. I need to...” A realization dawned on Kirk’s face. “You know what, doc? Actually, I might be able to use your help.”

 

* * *

 

“Hi, I’m Spock. I’m logical. Or, whatever.”

“Bones. Come on.” Kirk sighed, sitting across from the doctor. “You said you wanted to help.”

“I _do_ ,” Bones grumbled, “But this is stretching the limits of my usefulness.”

“Just _try_ ,” Kirk pleaded. “I need to.... figure this out.”

“I agree,” Bones replied, taking an ample drink of his refilled mint julep. “It’s a good exercise. _I’m just saying_ , I’m a doctor, not an... actor?”

“You’ll do fine.” Kirk grinned, his eyes twinkling for the first time in a while.

_Well, if it gets his confidence back up_ , Bones thought, only a little sourly. _It’s worth a shot_. “Alright. Here goes. It’s _illogical_ that you’re here.”

Kirk suppressed a giggle. “I thought we parted on bad terms, Mister Spock.”

“Yeah. I was upset and pissed.”

“That-that you were,” Kirk agreed. “I wanted to say, I’m sorry. Really.”

“Sorry’s not going to cut it, captain. I don’t trust you.” Bones gave his best Vulcan eyebrow raise. It was mildly effective.

Kirk chewed his tongue for a moment, mulling over his thoughts. “You’re just going to have to trust me on this one. It’s the most honest thing I’ve ever said.”

“That was good, Jim! You’re doing-“

“Stay in character, man,” Kirk chided, poorly concealing a smug grin. “I gotta keep going.”

“Alright, yeesh. Okay, uh, _Yeah_ , but your change of heart is illogical. Why ignore me then?”

“Because. Because...” Kirk frowned, “Because I was lost. I didn’t realize that you were... everything, Spock. That I couldn’t do it without you.”

“I think you’re afraid to lose something, even if you don’t want it that badly.”

Kirk’s nostrils flared. “This is getting too hard,” he mumbled under his breath, rubbing his hands together. His brain was freezing up, unable to remember his lines.

“Come on, buddy, stick with it. I’m Spock. If you screw this up, I’m gone forever.”

“Alright alright,” Kirk grumbled, “I get it. I just can’t...” He tugged at the collar of his shirt, trying to fill his lungs. “I just can’t breathe.”

“You can do this,” Bones encouraged, leaning forward earnestly. “If anyone can push through, it’s you.”

“I know I just- _okay._ ” Kirk exhaled pointedly, his cheeks filling and emptying. “Let’s just do this.”

“Okay, here we go.” Bones warned, trying to slip into his best Spock voice. “I think that you only want me to stay on the _Enterprise_ because you’re afraid to lose anything at all. Not because I matter.”

Kirk let out a dry breath, his finger tapping slowly on his knee. _He had to breathe, center himself, find the calm in the middle of the ion storm._ This wasn’t a moment for actions or leaps of faith or tests... it was a moment for stillness, for remembering the right words from the right memories.

_He shut his eyes._

_The smell of hospital antiseptic filled his nose, the starched white sheets crinkling stiffly in his hands. Through the open window, he could hear the sound of crickets, the occasional car horn or muted, ghostly laugh. It was the middle of the night, and the room was dark, save for the small lights that displayed his vitals._

_“Jim, are you awake?”_

_Kirk wheezed, his head turning uncomfortably towards the voice. He opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped._

_“I recommend you stop moving excessively. Please. Do not hurt yourself.”_

_“I’m. I’m okay, Spock.” Kirk smiled, weakly. The words tasted strange on his tongue, and he realized it would be more than a few days before he would be in fighting shape again. Continuing to turn his head, he finally found the Vulcan’s form , a dark figure, lying on the cot next to his hospital bed. Kirk dimly remembered that the cot had been in the corner of the room. Sometime, in the middle of the night, Spock must have moved it closer._

_"Are you in pain?” Spock reached up, delicately finding Kirk’s hand in the dark._

_Kirk chuckled. “I’m doing better now.” He squeezed Spock’s hand. “Now that you’re here.”_

_Spock was quiet for a moment. “Me too.”_

_Kirk rolled over, trying to reach Spock’s face with his free hand. Slowly, he ran an uncoordinated thumb over his cheekbone, feeling the smoothness of his skin, letting the silence stay. His arm dropped after a moment, his strength still weak. Spock just closed his eyes then, pushing his cheek into the open palm, listening to the beat of blood in the extremity._

_“Come closer,” Kirk finally whispered, his gaze searching Spock’s face in the dark, eyes wide._

_“I do not wish to inadvertently hurt you,” he murmured._

_“You won’t.”_

_Spock got up, as quietly as possible and curled next to Kirk, abandoning his cot. The captain was thankful when Spock shifted just so, letting him rest his head on the Vulcan’s chest, his arms cradling Kirk’s tired body. Here, he could hear Spock’s heart, feel the warmth of his closeness that drove away the chill of death... When Jim next opened his eyes, it was morning, and Spock was still there- still holding him, still running a soothing hand occasionally through his hair, still silently thanking the old Vulcan deities every time Kirk managed a ragged breath. Unwavering._

“You were always there for me, Spock.” Kirk spoke aloud, Bone’s eyes following his lips. “You loved me before I understood what love was, before I could properly love in return. It was _so human._ And yet?” Kirk laughed, his eyes still focused on distant memories. “And yet I know I loved you too. I just couldn’t show it because I didn’t know how, _because I was afraid to_. Now I know. And I want to show you- from here until we reach the edge of space and further. Because if there’s any logic in universe, we’ll be on that bridge together again. _Us_.”

There was silence before Bones nodded his approval, his eyes red, though Kirk couldn’t understand why. “Spock will like that,” the doctor said quietly, a trembling smile on his lips. “I think you’ll figure it out when the time comes.” 


	8. Part 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying the story! I also hope you guys enjoy desert imagery because~~ yeah, there's quite a bit of that to come!

 

“That’s all you’re taking?”

Kirk slung the small backpack over his shoulder smugly. “I won’t be gone for very long.”

Bones rolled his eyes. “You say that and soon enough the _Enterprise_ isn’t going to have a first officer _or_ a captain.”

“A little faith.” Kirk clapped his friend on the shoulder, pulling his ticket out of his breast pocket. “Spock and I will be back before you know it.”

“Careful,” Bones grumbled, “I might get used to the quiet.”

“You’d go crazy.”

“Already am,” Bones smiled, rocking back on his heels. “But you’re going to miss your plane.”

“That I am,” Kirk rubbed his eyes, turning towards the gate. “Can you believe it? Thirty whole minutes to get to the Middle East? The _Enterprise_ could get there in about twenty seconds.”

Bones laughed. “The burdens of regular society.”

Kirk’s eyes glittered humorously. “I couldn’t stand it.”

The stewardess made a call for the first boarding group and Kirk shrugged. “Well, I’m off. Keep an eye on things while I’m gone.”

“Good luck, Jim,” Bones replied. “You’re going to do great.”

“Yeah.” Kirk grinned, “I will.”

 

* * *

 

_Inhale. Exhale._

“Inhale.”

“Exhale.”

Spock tried to focus on his breathing, the hot, dry air filling in his lungs in a slow rhythm. He could almost taste the red sand, feel the coarseness of it under his nails. Behind closed eyelids he could see it billowing and buffeted by the wind, pushed into unblemished, colorful hills. Spock had noted immediately that the desert’s terrain was not nearly rocky enough for Vulcan, but he had tried to purge that disappointment. Amongst other things.

“Your focus is most improved, Spock.” Sarek complimented, breaking the silence. By Spock’s internal clock they had been meditating for slightly over two hours- 2.12 hours, to be precise.

“Thank you, father.” Spock cracked open his eyes, momentarily blinded by the bright desert sun. Next to him, sitting similarly, was Sarek, his eyes still shut, face tilted upwards.

Sarek continued. “We should commence again later in the evening. Soon it will be too hot. Even for us.”

Spock nodded his agreement, standing stiffly. His grey _Kolinahr_ robes billowed behind him as he turned to look back towards the encampment, just a reflective speck in the distance. Up closer, the building was primarily short and squat, made of glass and steel. Artistically nestled between the dunes, Spock had found the arrangements to be very austere, even by his meager standards.

Still. He had chosen. _This._

“Are you ready, Spock?” Sarek had gotten to his feet, standing next to his son, overlooking the desert. “It is... beautiful is it not?”

“Amanda would have liked it here.”

Sarek sighed. “To attain _Kolinahr_ you will have to release your grief for your mother.”

Spock simply blinked, betraying nothing. “Understood.”

Sarek looked down, his face as cryptic as ever, his tone perpetually flat. “We should return.”

“Yes.” Spock agreed, stepping forward first, his bare feet curling into the burning hot sand.

They walked in silence. 

 

* * *

 

“What emotion is hardest for you to release, Spock?”

Spock was seated on the encampment’s shaded porch, the concrete cool on his legs. It was midday, and thus it was too hot to be outside in the heat for too long. “Grief, counselor.”

The Vulcan counselor nodded sagely. “Grief for your mother.”

“Grief for all those that I have lost,” Spock added, his gaze dropping.

“You have experienced much. That makes you strong,” the counselor continued, “but it make the _Rite of Kolinahr_ more difficult.”

“I have been told as much.”

A long silence, the wind occasionally whipping scorching sand onto the porch floor. Periodically, a Vulcan attendant would sweep away the sand, but Spock liked the gritty texture of silt on the floor. It reminded him why he was here. It reminded him of home, of tracking sand into his home on Vulcan as a boy, making a mess of the front entryway. Amanda had always scolded him, laughing...

The counselor cleared his throat. “You must accept that those who are gone are... gone, Spock.”

 _Kirk would hate it here_ , Spock thought, without realizing it. He would hate the quiet, the preachy superiority of the counselors, the stillness. _But he might like the sand, and the heat._

“Those who have left us, Spock,” the counselor continued, “cannot and will not return. Acceptance of this truth is key.”

Spock looked up. “Acceptance. The release of those individuals, emotionally.”

“Do not let them haunt you.”

“And do not let yourself hope.”

The counselor almost looked sympathetic, if such an emotion could be ascribed to him. “This will take time. Your mother is gone, Spock.”

 _As is Jim_ , but Spock didn’t say that. “Time and diligence,” he simply agreed. “I have both.”

 

* * *

 

Kirk’s GPS was useless. “Turn left.” The soothing male voice commanded, repetitively.

Kirk cursed, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the steering wheel of the hover car tighter. “Computer, I repeat, there is _not_ a road there.”

“James Kirk, our satellite maps indicate there is a road.”

“Well, there’s not.” Kirk growled, squinting through his sunglasses. “Plot me another path.”

“Negative. There is no other course for the coordinates you have programmed. Do you wish to terminate the program?”

Kirk tried to survey the desert landscape, looking for signs of life amid the sand dunes. For hours he had been driving without any indication of life, let alone a group of Vulcans. At least his car wouldn’t run out of fuel thanks to the solar panels along roof. _And god knows there’s enough damn sun out here._ “Yes,” Kirk finally decided, spontaneously, “terminate.”

The car’s engine revved as Kirk veered left, flying over the nearest sand dune. Despite his frustration, a grin bloomed on his face, born of pure rebellious impertinence. 

“Warning: you are not on a road. Please return to the road.”

“Computer,” Kirk chuckled, “terminate.”

“You are violating the traffic laws of Saudi Arabia.“

“ _Terminate_ ,” Kirk tried again, grinding his teeth. He pulled up on the wheel, elevating the car to avoid crashing into another hill. “Whatever- turn _off_.”

“Not possi-“

Kirk punched the console with his finger, blindly finding the power button with a lucky jab. The computer fizzed out mid sentence, and Kirk sighed happily. “Much better.”

Careening around another dune, Kirk accelerated, keeping his eyes peeled. He wasn’t sure what to expect out here, or what kind of accommodations Spock had cooked up. He squinted, eyes searching the horizon, seeing nothing but red dirt and the mirage of water. It was even more difficult he found, as the hover car could not maintain much of an altitude from the ground. As such, Kirk had to ride up and down with the dunes, the rollercoaster motion enough to make him (almost) sick. _And that was saying something._

Squinting, Kirk thought he saw something in the distance, the tiniest glimmer of a reflective surface. He leaned forward, pulling up over another dune. It looked like water, or maybe.... Kirk groaned. _Nothing_. Just heat rising in coils from the sand. Kirk focused back on the ground, maneuvering and-

“Oh _shit_.”

As Kirk tipped over the top of a dune, he saw the building below him, all glass and steel. Cursing profusely and swerving, he skittered along the hill, kicking up dirt and making a ruckus as the engines spit out sand.  Kirk managed to pull up as he stopped, but the car still ran aground, the nose of the vehicle just barely buried by sand. _This would be quite the arrival_ , Kirk could only think, somehow wryly. _At least no one would miss him_.

Killing the engines, Kirk tried his best to build his composure, trying to smooth the knot of anxiety in his stomach. He hadn’t even realized he was nervous, but as the adrenaline wore off, it was all he could feel. _Inhale, exhale._ He rubbed his hands together, building his confidence, scratching the back of his neck. Eventually, he just sighed and unbuckled himself, exiting the car.

Outside were five very confused Vulcans.

“Hey, hello, uh,  _Namaste_ ,” Kirk grinned, bowing slightly, sheepishly. “I’m sorry about my rough landing. There’s isn’t much of a map of this place.”

The Vulcans were silent for a moment, a few of them clearly too offended to really respond appropriately. They whispered between each other for a moment, their faces long and unimpressed. This was worst than he expected, _maybe not the best impression after all._ Kirk searched the small crowd for a familiar face, _anything._ His eyes fell on Sarek, but he didn’t see Spock. Kirk’s heart dropped.

“Captain Kirk,” Sarek spoke slowly, stepping forward. “This is... most unexpected.”

Kirk kept his good-natured smile.  “It was a spontaneous visit.”

“I see that.” Even Sarek couldn’t keep a hint of distaste from his face. “May I ask for the reason for your visit?”

“Oh, uh, _Spock_. I’m here to see Spock.”

Sarek shook his head. “Spock is deep within the process of _Kolinahr_. Any distraction would be disastrous-“

“Captain...?”

Spock walked from outside the building, his grey robes wrapping around his legs in the wind. He looked disoriented, confused, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes wide.

“Spock!” Kirk strode away from the Vulcan group instinctively, going to meet his friend halfway. “It’s good to see you!”

“Kirk what are you- _what are you doing here_?” Spock only looked slightly jarred when Kirk grabbed his shoulders, pulling the Vulcan into a tight hug. “I do not understand.”

Kirk sighed, happier than he realized to be holding Spock, even if only briefly. “I just came for a visit.” He pulled away, grinning. “You look great. The sun must really be doing something for you.”

“Kirk, you are not allowed to be-“

“Come on, Spock.” Kirk laughed. “Just a day or two visit won’t kill you.”

Sarek sighed from behind Kirk, his steps silent in the sand as he approached.  “Two days? That is not advisable.”

Kirk turned, attempting his most diplomatic and charming persona. “Elder, I don’t want to intrude on your rites. It’s just. I came all the way from San Francisco. And I think the car is busted.”

Sarek merely raised his eyebrows. “Spock?”

Spock opened his mouth, a little dismayed at being brought into the discussion. He closed it, the gears in his mind clearly turning. “I defer to your good judgment, father.”

Kirk’s grin slipped for the first time, a little hurt. “...Spock?”

Sarek cleared his throat. “I owe Captain Kirk an enormous debt. While I do not feel it is wise, I cannot in good conscience turn him away. Would a day be sufficient, captain?”

“That would be.” Kirk smiled, weakly.  “Thank you, elder.”

“Spock, would you like to show the captain to the guest quarters?”

Spock nodded, his face placid, if a little dazed. “Of course, father.” Pulling his hands back into the sleeves of his robe, he turned to Kirk, their eyes locking for a brief, terse instant. “James Kirk, if you would not mind.”

“Thank you.” Kirk replied, trying to catch Spock’s gaze again, trying desperately to say something through the tenuous medium of eye contact. Spock purposely let his eyes drift downward, however, and the two turned and walked towards the building in silence.

 

* * *

 

“What _is this?_ ” Spock slammed Kirk against the wall of the guest quarters, his lip curled back, revealing the sharp whites of his teeth.

Kirk’s eyes widened, his head knocking against the wall uncomfortably. Spock had him by the shoulders, not terribly painfully, but enough to thoroughly wake him up. “ _Kolinahr_ ’s not going so well for you, is it?” He replied, infuriatingly wryly.

Spock snarled. “It is going considerably more poorly now that you are here.”

“You _know_ this isn’t going to work. Think logically, Spock.”

Spock pushed into Kirk again, their faces suddenly too close. “ _Watch me._ ”  The Vulcan managed, his eyes darkening.

Kirk didn’t say anything, his expression softening. It was obvious that Spock was in the midst of a most vicious internal crisis, his muscles trembling as his fingers dug into Kirk’s jacket, his features a livid green. He was shattering, _but maybe that’s what the glass needed_.

Kirk sighed, bringing his hand up and taking Spock’s hands, gently pulling them off his shoulders. They went limp, collapsing in his grip, almost small. For a moment, Kirk only held Spock’s hands carefully, like they were china. “It’s okay, Spock. You don’t have to pretend anymore. Not with me.”

Spock swallowed, remaining still and not quite pulling away. “I am not pretending, Jim.”

“You are, Spock,” Kirk leaned forward, his head tilting. “This isn’t you.”

Spock closed his eyes, trying to regain composure. “I am Vulcan.”

Kirk realized just how close their lips were, just how little it would take to lean forward... “You’re human too.”

Spock shuddered, his eyes still closed. “This is the only way.”

“No,” Kirk replied, pulling himself closer, “you’re taking the easy way.”

Spock felt the cool sensation of Kirk’s lips meeting his own, softly, hopefully. It was a speculative kiss, as though more of a question than an answer. Spock didn’t respond for a moment, letting the sensation fill him, letting Kirk pull on his bottom lip, scared of his own desire and his lack of willpower to fight it. Falteringly at first, Spock kissed back, gripping Kirk’s hands desperately, his eyelids shutting tightly as he deepened the kiss. He couldn’t think, _only_ _feel_ , waves of emotion washing away whatever strands of self-control he had left. _It was like a dam had broken, somewhere, and the tide was rising above desert sands._

“No,” Spock finally managed, pulling back. “I. I cannot.”

Kirk pushed his forehead into the crook of Spock’s neck, inhaling. “You _can_. I want to show you that you can trust me.”

Spock swallowed hard, keeping his gaze fixed ahead. “You cannot, possibly. It is statistically impossible.”

“Your emotions are not statistics, Spock.” He kissed the Vulcan’s neck slowly.

“I have,” his voice was dangerously unstable, “I have chosen that path.”

“It’s not too late. _Let me show you.”_

Spock stepped back, pulling his hands away from Kirk’s. “You will leave tomorrow. My _Kolinahr_ progress is now... compromised. I must renew my efforts.”

“Spock, no-“

The corner of Spock’s mouth twitched, sadly. “Thank you, Jim. For visiting.”

“Spock, wait!” Kirk called as the Vulcan turned and left, “Listen to me- please!”

Spock only paused for the briefest fraction of a second in the doorway, his hand lingering on the frame. “Dinner will be served at six pm, standard time.” Then he was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and feedback are always the best!


	9. Part 9

Kirk sighed, wrapping the tie of his robe around his waist clumsily, his fingers tripping over themselves as he entwined the clasps into place. The garment had been left on the doorstep of his guest quarters, neatly packaged and pressed, entirely unexpected but not unwelcome. Kirk had assumed it was his to wear for dinner, and as such, he had done his best to make it look somewhat presentable. The last thing the captain wanted to do after his uninvited crash landing was offend the Vulcan sensibilities of ritual garb- not if he couldn’t help it, at least. Still, most of Kirk’s efforts were in vain, the sleeves insufferably long, and the number of ties and loops confusing and impossible to untangle. Kirk had been tempted to just tie the whole thing like a bathrobe (an act of open rebellion) but had decided that Spock probably wouldn’t approve of such _human barbarism_.

He closed his eyes, fighting anger. He hadn’t meant to let himself stay disappointed, or hurt. It wasn’t Spock’s fault, _he knew that_. But it didn’t make it sting any less. 

_Roobios and chai, with a hint of plain soap._ Kirk inhaled.

Sighing happily, he pressed his nose into the loose sleeve of his robe, inhaling deeply again. It smelled like something so familiar, like home but closer... _like_ _Spock_ , he realized.

Hearing a knock, Kirk quickly straightened the collar of his robe, checking his face in the mirror.  “Come in.” 

The door slid open and Spock entered, quietly, slowly. He stepped only a few steps inside the quarters- just enough for the door to slide shut behind him softly. “I’m sorry to intrude.”

Kirk smiled, still awkwardly standing in the middle of the room. “No, no intrusion at all.”

Spock was wearing a robe identical to Kirk’s, except the braids that decoratively fastened the otherwise plain, grey garment were meticulously and perfectly tied. His face was as unreadable as ever, though Kirk could detect the slightest hint of mostly concealed moroseness. “I simply wanted to inform you that dinner will be delayed by approximately nine minutes.”  He shifted his weight awkwardly. “I also wanted to ensure that your robe fit adequately.”

Kirk looked down at his feet, sizing up his robe compared to Spock’s. _So that’s how you tie the damn thingies_ , he thought, his hands instantly going to the ties. “I wasn’t sure how to, uh,” he bit his lip sheepishly, “work the whole Vulcan fashion thing.”

The corner of Spock’s lip twitched. “The robes of _Kolinahr_ are a symbol. The complexities of the braiding hold meaning.”

“And that is?”

“The braiding requires focus and precision. The grey symbolizes the abstinence of passions.” Spock stepped forward. “I can see my robe is slightly too large for you.”

Kirk paused, looking up sharply. “This is your robe?”

“We do not keep guest spares.”

Kirk swallowed, straightening, silent for a beat too long. He recovered as quickly as he could, pushing the ragged surprise from his face and chuckling. “You’re not that much taller than me.”

“The difference is relatively minimal,” Spock agreed. He didn’t speak for a moment, their eyes simply meeting, clicking together briefly in the silence of the room. _Like puzzles_ , Kirk thought for a moment, _that’s how it was- for now_. Spock’s gaze dropped, almost embarrassed. “Would you like assistance with the braiding?”

Kirk nodded, shrugging with bemused resignation. “I’m making a mess of the whole damn thing, aren’t I?”

Spock stepped forward, grasping the top two threads at Kirk’s collar. “Somewhat.”  Quickly he began twining the pieces together, his long fingers nimbly working the threads. Kirk wasn’t sure what to do, simply standing self-consciously as Spock operated. Still, it was nice to be so close to him, to be given this modicum of attention, to be touched- even if just barely. _It just felt so domestic_ , Kirk realized. Perhaps in another life he could see himself in the exact same position, Spock exasperatedly, but affectionately, fixing his disheveled robes before he went to meet the parents... _Maybe still_ , Kirk thought hopefully, his eyes following Spock’s hands. _So much is uncertain_.

Kirk sighed happily. “Thank you. For helping.”

“It is not a problem. I am almost finished.” Spock looked up briefly, his eyes darting along the previously braided sections. Unexpectedly, his eyes found Kirk’s, and his fingers skipped a beat, a single cord left out of the braid.

Spock swallowed, looking down again sharply, visibly chastising himself. Backtracking, he tried tucking the thread back into the main cord, attempting to seamlessly hide his mistake. He mostly succeeded, but the thread still bulged, still pulled slightly to the side. Spock left it. That’s all he could do.  “We will be late.”

“Yeah, uh, yeah. Okay.”

Spock stepped back, briefly admiring his work with a satisfied blink. Even with the space between them, Kirk could still detect the faint scent of rooibos and chai, lingering just barely in the space the Vulcan had left, like a ghost. “Will Sarek be angry if we’re late to dinner?”

Spock shrugged almost imperceptibly. “Anger does not come to him easily.”

“I should have guessed,” Kirk merely replied, trying his best to read Spock’s tone.  He had realized, somewhere along the way, that this was the only apology he was going to get for Spock’s outburst earlier, that fixing Kirk’s robes had not been duty. Rather, tying Kirk’s robes had been an outreach of a sort, the only gesture of goodwill that Spock trusted himself to make. “Well,” Kirk said finally, “after you.”

“Of course,” Spock replied, turning towards the door. Kirk followed him, slipping into the main foyer of the building, the door whirring shut behind him as he trailed along. Outside the sun was setting behind the endless sands, a dusky light casting moody shadows inside the glass walled foyer. In the center of the room was a set table, a few bowls of vegetarian cuisine already prepared. Sarek stood waiting at the head of the table.

“Captain Kirk. Spock.” He nodded to each of them. “Thank you for joining me.”

Spock went to his father’s side, taking a seat next to him stiffly. “I apologize for our tardiness.”

“It is not an inconvenience,” Sarek replied, taking his own seat. “I see you have provided the captain a robe for dinner.”

“Of course. He is my guest.” 

Sarek raised an almost speculative eyebrow. “Of course.”

Kirk sighed, a little peeved at being spoken for by Spock. Still, his trepidation granted him restraint, cautiously taking a seat across from Spock. “Thank you for accommodating me,” Kirk said, breaking the momentary silence. “It’s very kind of you.”

Sarek simply looked severe. “It is only a slight inconvenience.”

Kirk cleared his throat. _How refreshingly honest_ , he thought acerbically, _it’s so nice to feel welcome_. “May I ask where the others are? The ones I saw outside?”

Spock glanced at his father, the two exchanging a careful glance. Spock finally spoke slowly, his words chosen tactfully. “They have chosen to fast his evening.”

“Is that... normal?”

“Normal enough,” Spock replied. He had no intention of mentioning they had chosen to refrain from dinner with Kirk, though he imagined the captain already knew that, subconsciously. “I am almost certain they will join us for breakfast.”

“...Can’t wait to meet them.”

No one was fooled by the string of forced, diplomatic pleasantries. Sarek’s chair creaked as he leaned back, and Spock shifted in his seat, ears visibly tinting green. No one made eye contact “Would you like to eat?” Sarek finally spoke, breaking the silence.

Kirk realized he hadn’t touched his plate. None of them had.  He smiled as warmly as he could muster. “Of course. It looks delicious.”

“All Vulcan dining is vegetarian,” Sarek continued. “Is that to your liking?”

“Of course,” Kirk chuckled. “It’s great. Spock’s always eating vegetarian.”

Sarek raised an eyebrow, a wary glance going to his son. “Does Spock teach you a great deal regarding our culture?”

Spock looked like he was going to be ill, taking an agitated bite.

“Bits and pieces here and there,” Kirk answered.

“Fascinating. You two must be close.”

Kirk filled his mouth with food as quickly as possible, the only defense he could muster- buying time mostly. “He is, _was,_ an excellent first officer.” He swallowed the last of his bite, looking to Spock desperately for help. “We had an excellent working relationship.” _Right?_

Spock cleared his throat. “Between the both of us, we had a uniquely advantageous set of strengths in Starfleet.”

Sarek took a slow bite. His face was utterly unreadable, as usual. “It sounds like quite the bond.”

Spock looked sharply at his father, anger flashing in his eyes, his cheeks turning green. “ _Father_.”

Sarek merely tilted his head, the corner of his lips twitching victoriously. _“_ Excuse me.”

“I’m sorry?” Kirk swallowed, the entire conversation going over his head. “What’s going on?”

Spock nodded serenely, putting on a dramatic show of self-control for his father. “Nothing, Captain. I apologize.”

Kirk snorted, using his fork to push grilled squash around his place. “No problem.”

Another silence, this one thick and oppressive, like a heavy cloud settling over the table, smothering all conversation. Kirk didn’t know what to say, evidently out of place, eating even as hunger evaded him. Clearly neither Spock or Sarek knew what to say either, occasionally exchanging terse glances that said more than they realized. Kirk watched quietly, hunched over his plate. Finally, he decided to break the tension, playing off the uncomfortable silence with a sly chuckle. “So,” he began, amiably, “how is your rite going, Spock?”

The Vulcan merely blinked. “It is proceeding quite as expected.” _A diplomatic answer_.

“Spock is still in preliminary counseling and meditation,” Sarek added. “He will not begin casting his passions out into the sands for a year at least.”

“I’m sorry,” Kirk raised his eyebrows, “cast his passions out into the sands?”

Spock cleared his throat. “It is the _Kolinahr_ way. All emotions are left one by one to the sands, figuratively, until none remain.”

Kirk felt ill, his fingers clenching his fork. “That sounds. Interesting.”

“It is the way of things,” Sarek added. “Spock has _chosen_ this path.” He looked pointedly at Kirk.

“Of _course_ ,” Kirk replied. He didn’t bother looking guilty, but rather met Sarek’s eyes defiantly. He wasn’t the best at diplomatic wordplay, but still, _two could play this game_.

“Kirk, might I ask the specific reason for your visit?” Sarek changed the subject with a seemingly harmless question, his eyes feigning focus on the last bits of food on his plate.

Spock shifted in his seat, meeting Kirk’s eyes briefly. _Careful_ , Spock seemed to say, the minutia of his expressions speaking a language only Kirk could understand. Wordlessly, Kirk nodded, his gaze shifting to Sarek. “Spock was my first officer. I wanted to see him off.”

“That is it then? A simple goodbye?”

“Yeah.” Kirk bit his lip. “I’m just saying... goodbye.”

“A _Kolinahr_ of your own, perhaps,” Sarek said, quietly.

_Cast out into sands, the both of them._ Spock swallowed, finding Kirk’s eyes across the table instinctively. Fallen to his plate, the blues looked hollow, dull and tired.   _You will find peace too_ , Spock wanted to say, reassuringly. _Eventually, t’hy’la._

“If you don’t mind, elder,” Kirk said politely, though never looking up, “I will excuse myself.”  

Sarek raised an eyebrow. “Of course, captain. Thank you for joining me.”

“No, thank you,” Kirk replied, standing and pushing in his chair. “It’s been a real honor.”

“Likewise.” Sarek put down his fork and stood. “Spock? Would you mind helping with the table?”

“Of course, father...”

Kirk was already walking away, his back turned, his ears shutting. Kirk couldn’t think clearly anymore; he was angry mostly, frustrated beyond belief. But he knew that his anger was just a primitive response to being upset, just sadness that was threatening to spill over. _It wasn’t supposed to be this hard,_ he thought, _to get him back. Maybe Spock had known all along. Something had to be cast into the sand._

_And sand was made into glass._

_And glass made...._

Kirk thought he was going to be sick, pushing himself outside roughly. The glass door whirred shut behind him, and he stepped onto the cooling red sand, letting his bare toes seep into the silt, letting a warm brush of air smooth his forehead.  The silence was eerie, but quietly beautiful. Already on the horizon he could see a full moon, pale yellow in the twilight sky. He started walking towards it, his grey robes billowing and catching the wind.

Overhead, the stars were already beginning to show, the desert night sky relatively free of light pollution. Kirk stopped at the top of the nearest sand dune, letting his gaze drift upward, searchingly. Faintly, he could make out the beginning splashes of the Milky Way, forming a trail of light across the sky. He remembered (almost) fondly his lessons from Starfleet, spending hours upon hours charting the stars from his desk in the library. _It doesn’t compare to being up there_ , he thought, almost smiling. _Nothing does_.

“It is.... beautiful, is it not?”

Kirk turned, Spock stepping to his side silently, stealthily. The Vulcan continued looking upward, his expression serene, hands folded into his sleeves. Kirk knew better than to be surprised, and instead simply followed his gaze back up to the heavens. “Reminds me of home.”

“Home?”

Kirk almost smiled. “Iowa.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“The open spaces. Being so close to the sky. Feeling... limitless.”

Spock looked down, finding Kirk’s face. “You have found another home in the sky.”

Kirk smiled, returning the glance. “I guess so.” His toes dug into the sand, changing the subject. “What brings you outside?”

“I wanted to observe your emotional state.”

“You wanted to see if I was alright?”

“In a manner of speaking. Jim,” Spock almost sighed, “are you...?”

“...alright?” The corner of Kirk’s lips twitched as he answered. “I’ve been better.”

Spock didn’t know what to say to that. “I thought you handled Sarek admirably.”

“Define ‘admirably.’” Kirk chuckled.

Spock almost smiled. “You could have performed much worse.”

Kirk dug his hands into the folds of his robes, biting his lips as he thought of all the things he could say. He rocked back on his heels, inhaling. “Spock...”

The Vulcan cleared his throat. “I am sorry.”

“I know.”

Spock pursed his lips. “I have not yet specified why I am sorry.”

Kirk just shook his head, smiling. “It’s okay. Whatever it is.”

Spock looked to Kirk, reading his face for a moment. “Walk with me,” he finally said, stepping forward. Kirk obliging kept pace with the Vulcan as they strolled across the dune, still walking loosely in the direction of the moon. “There are... apologies I want to make,” he began, their footfalls silent.

“It’s alright, Spock. Really.” Kirk said amiably, but wearily.

“No,” Spock continued, “I should have... I should have not allowed myself to become so entwined.”

Kirk was about to argue about to say, _no, you didn’t allow yourself enough_ , _Spock,_ but he stopped himself, the wind leaving his lungs. “Me too.”

“Perhaps by separating, we can both find peace.”

“No,” Kirk grimaced, “maybe you. But not me.”

“No?” Spock seemed confused.

“Spock...” For a moment, his thoughts scattered and his throat closed. “Every time I try to tell you... how I feel. I can’t think. I can’t speak.”

“You are nervous?” An eyebrow raise.

“No, it’s not that. I just know that whatever I say... It’s not enough. It _can’t_ be.” 

Spock paused to turn to Kirk, the two atop the very crest of a dune. In the distance the encampment was small, a beacon of yellow light in the otherwise dusky night. “You know I would have listened.”

“But not now?”

Spock’s gaze dropped. He didn’t answer.

Kirk rubbed his forehead, suddenly embarrassed. “You know why I came out here, right?”

Spock nodded solemnly, betraying nothing. “Correct.”

“And you know...?” Kirk stepped forward towards Spock. “And you know I love you.”

Spock opened his mouth to speak, unsure what to say. “Jim...”

“No,” Kirk interrupted. “Let me show you- _no_ , let me _tell_ you. Just let me try, Spock. Even if it doesn’t mean anything to you anymore. To me? I have to...” his voice broke, “ _I have to try_.”

Spock watched as Kirk silently, subtly collapsed inwardly, his hand balling at his stomach, his eyes dark and low, the wind whipping sand into his robe. Framed against the starry sky he looked like every edge had been peeled away, like his matter was about to be spread into the sand, into the sky, to form new constellations and universes.

“Jim.” Spock said, finally, quietly. “Come here.”

Kirk looked up slowly, surprise creeping across his features. “Spock?”

Spock shrugged. “You cannot speak. So I will aid you.”

“Why?” Kirk croaked.

Spock didn’t have a clear answer, his gaze dropping. _Nothing was certain_. He only had his gut feeling, his instinct- nothing logical or sane or rational. Instead he simply raised his hand, his thumb angled downward, three fingers extended. His hand almost shook. “I would have wanted to know. Would you be adverse?”

Kirk said nothing, his eyes wide, glittering in the moonlight. Tentatively, he stepped forward.

With a steadying breath, Spock brought his hand to Kirk’s cheek.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like the story, or have any thoughts, please leave feedback! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Things are really starting to get interesting and I can't want to share the next few updates!


	10. Part 10

It was like _electricity_.

Kirk only had a moment to meet Spock’s gaze, his eyes widening in sudden apprehension, skin going cold. He couldn’t control this, what Spock saw, what Spock felt. What if it was all the wrong things? What if Spock saw just how desperate he was, how lost, how _scared_? Worse, what if Spock saw all that, and didn’t care? His breath hitched. “ _Wai_ -“

The words never actually left Kirk’s throat, his consciousness already plummeted deep within itself, his mind retreating within its own tunnels of manifolds. Visions upon visions flashed through his mind, his subconscious picking memories and dreams at random from both minds. He couldn’t control it. He _couldn’t_....

**_Their minds linked._ **

**_A flash of a mother’s smile, waves of corn, bare feet running over dusty red rocks._ **

**_A click._ **

**_A whir._ **

_Spock walked towards his mother, his split lip green, eyes wet, schoolbag disheveled. She met him halfway on the driveway, wrapping his tiny body in her arms, a suppressed sob finally escaping his bruised chest. “You’re okay,” she simply repeated. “I’m here.”_

_The sky cracked, and he pulled away, his fingers clutching to Amanda’s sleeves one last time. Everything was suddenly red, dripping and dark, the Vulcan atmosphere shifting with violent, edged light. The ground rumbled below him, and a shudder ran through Spock’s spine, the earth splitting into jagged fragments around them. “Mother!“ Spock tried to call out, his words caught in the roar of the planet’s death. “Wait-“ His voice broke._

_She knew. She had known from the first boulder’s crack, from the first moment the sky shuddered with defeat. Her eyes were wet, Spock could see that, her face flushed from running, graced with traces of soft Vulcan dirt. “It’s okay,” she said softly, quietly. “To be scared.”_

_She had given him one final smile, a soft, sad thing that only a mother could muster for her child’s strength. A final farewell. And then she was gone._

_Spock could have sworn he had screamed- but maybe it was lost in the transporter, or perhaps everyone else had been too polite to mention it. His throat had felt raw after that and his hands perpetually empty. In his dreams, the ground always collapsed under him too, and he followed her into that crimson abyss._

_The air cracked, the memories jagged and scarlet tinted._

_Kirk’s vision was red, and he knew his nose was bleeding. He felt the crack, Frank’s palm connecting with his face again, and again, and again. He didn’t say anything, not as a boy, nor as a teenager. It was as if he aged, but the punishment was timeless, as if Frank himself were an evil that was almost infinite._

_But he couldn’t take the sky. Frank wasn’t that big._

_Jim felt the tall grass under his palms, running through the field as fast as he could. With his eyes closed, he could hear every brush of every stalk, hear the serenade of midafternoon crickets. His feet hit the ground harder and harder until he reached the top of the hill. Until he felt he might escape into the sky itself._

_The palm raised again._

_Across worlds, T’Pring nodded crisply, greeting Spock with a Vulcan salute. While stoic, she barely concealed a cruel smile. “You should be aware that Stonn and I are becoming excellent partners in study.”_

_Spock, now a teenager, just shrugged. “I am happy for your two.” The implications were not lost on him._

_T’Pring raised an eyebrow. “What will you do, Spock? For pon farr?”_

_Spock blinked, unaccustomed to pon farr being spoken of so lightly. “We are bonded.”_   
_She turned on her heel, hair swinging as she walked away._

_“For now.”_

_Jim sighed, his muscles twitching, sweat just dampening his brow. This was his first rebellion, hands fluttering over her stomach. He barely knew her name- but she thought he was funny, maybe clever. She definitely thought he was dangerous though, wild and uninhibited. That’s all that mattered._

_He sighed into her neck, hands rolling over her shoulders, a playful smile on his lips. He knew he would always remember this moment, if only because she was the first- not because she mattered. Neither of them did. That was the point- to lose each other in the exhilarating infinity of no expectations._

_And Kirk reveled in that. He really did. To be with someone, ever so briefly, that didn’t expected him to be a failure, that didn’t expect him to be the reincarnation of his dead father? That was what he craved, more than touch, more than kindness. If she knew him, truly, or even expected to know him, she would see all the fuck-ups, all the wasted potential, all cocky wisecracks made in face of despondency. She would see them, and then he would have to see them too._

_Touching her neck, letting his lips wander- this is what Kirk wanted. To get lost, for just a few minutes. That’s all he needed. To keep it together._

_In agony Spock finally began to cave, the blood fever consuming him, utterly, totally, completely. For a moment, he lost touch with himself, forgetting his own name to the throes of plak tow. The fever threatened to burn away his sanity, his morals, his self-control. He gripped T’Pring’s shoulders sharply, inhaling cold air to steady himself. “I... do not.. want this.”_

_Her lip curled upward, revealing sharp, white canines. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she too struggled to speak coherently. “That... makes two of us.”_

_Spock swallowed, eyes rolling back into his head briefly. “You.. and Stonn...”_

_T’Pring’s eyes narrowed dangerously, her balance beginning to fail. “Spock... if I survive this.. I swear to every god... I will kill you.”_

_“If you don’t... want to-“_

_She kissed him, hard. For a brief moment their eyes met, dark and bloodshot. There was no compassion, no empathy, no support. There was only a raw, biological need, and a burning hate._

_Everything was black and red and messy and-_

_Kirk got on the shuttle, his head hitting the top ceiling bar with a thud. He chuckled, as cocky and impervious as ever, though that was just an act for the fellow recruits. He had just gotten so good at the charade that it had become real, to an extent. When he finally found a seat, it was the only one still vacant, and was next to a fellow that looked equally displaced. As Jim buckled his safety harness, he could smell the reek of alcohol coming from the seat, see the lines of grit and dirt on his face. This man, whoever he was, was kindred, in a sense. It seemed that both of them had nothing to lose. That always made people dangerous- and powerful._

_Nothing could shoot Kirk down, and Kirk believed it. Death was something that happened to other people now. Love was too._

**_Air whistling past thrown fists, eyes red as clay. The sound of crickets._ **

**_A whir._ **

_“Not human, not Vulcan. You don’t belong... anywhere.”_

**_A crack._ **

_“You’re just a pain in your mother’s ass.”_

**_Click._ **

_“She’s gone, Spock. I’m sorry.”_

**_Snap._ **

_“Your father would be ashamed of you.”_

Kirk felt Spock’s hand on his face shift, the thumb just running along his cheekbone. He inhaled sharply, his mind just tickling reality, a sob threatening to escape his throat. He couldn’t tell if a year had just passed, or a brief moment. The dream sucked him back though.... his consciousness compressed into a single moment before, once again, being scattered- infinitely.

His breath stopped. His heart beat. _Spock was sifting, carefully this time, searching for...._

_Kirk’s head slammed against the table, Spock pressing down on him, hands wrapped around his throat. They squeezed, and Kirk’s vision began to fade, lights and color tinting his peripheral vision. He couldn’t feel either, his extremities numb. He knew his hands were scratching at Spock’s hands, but it was just useless. Spock had such superior strength, and when coupled with a white-hot fury... the result was deadly._

_Kirk, surprisingly, had not considered he would die by the hands of a Vulcan._

_Sure, he had planned to get a rise out of Spock, demonstrate just how emotionally compromised he was. He had not planned on getting killed in the process. In a last ditch effort, his eyes found Spock’s, bright blues meeting those dark, furious browns, time slowing into crystal clarity. Kirk couldn’t help but wonder just how interesting those eyes might have been, under different circumstances._

_Different circumstances._

_Kirk remembered the first time his hand brushed Spock’s. Their fingers mingled for a tiny second on the same control board, above the same command button. Spock had withdrawn his hand immediately, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly. Kirk mumbled some dumb apology, keeping formality on the bridge. He didn’t know what the moment meant, only that it meant_ something.

_The second time, however, neither withdrew their hands. Their knuckles had brushed slowly, resting together, connecting. Kirk hadn’t looked up to see Spock’s face, the moment fragile enough as it was. Instead, he simply stared ahead from his seat in command, watching the stars fly past the view screen, silently._

_Fire. Embers cracking as smoke swirled in columns above him._

_Kirk was made to see. Made to open his eyes and realize exactly what he had been missing. What he would miss. If..._

_“If Spock were here, and I were there, what would he do?”_

_Bones didn’t make eye contact. “He’d let you die.”_

_Dimly, Kirk registered that the seconds were ticking down. He wasn’t even sure why he had asked the question. He just knew that, for some reason, it had felt important, speaking to a vain, selfish part of him that needed to matter. It was a part of him that was, slowly, awakening._

_He needed Spock to need him. And he needed Spock._

_Seeing didn’t necessitate clarity, and as Kirk struggled with a fear he didn’t register or understand, he found his anchor in his newfound priority: Spock. And he knew now that Spock would always be his prime directive, even if the feeling wasn’t mutual. In every life, every scenario, every choice, Kirk would always choose Spock._

_Kirk was made to see that, and he did._

_“Is there anything you would not do for your family?”_

_That was a frightening question, one Kirk was afraid to answer. But he did. In the end._

_Glass, and the fractured space between them. Kirk realized that, truly, for the first time since boyhood, he was terrified. He was scared of dying, of feeling, of everything in between. He was scared of the cold sensation that was wrapping around his throat, tightening like a vice. He was scared of all the missed touches, every time their hands hadn’t met. Every time that he was alone, and how alone he would remain... wherever he was going._

_He was not going to supernova. He was going to sputter out and die in dimming moments. He was fading._

_He clawed at consciousness. He needed to make these last, terrified seconds count._

_“How do you choose not to feel?” The question was desperate._

_“I do not know. Right now I’m failing.”_

_Kirk imagined his hand passing through that glass, brushing Spock’s hair, just once. “I wanted you to know why I couldn’t let you die... why I went back for you...”_

_“...Because you are my friend.”_

_Spock, still, after everything, didn’t understand._

_Kirk opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t. Even in his final moments, without repercussion, he couldn’t muster the bravery to correct Spock, to tell him that friends had been just a fraction of the way Kirk saw Spock. But it didn’t matter. What mattered was that Kirk understood, and had acted accordingly. He had saved the crew. He’d saved Uhura, and Sulu, and Bones. He’d saved Spock._

_If only the glass were just as fractured, Kirk thought, almost comically. Maybe then he could have sent all these stray thoughts along the hairline fractures, let them find a roost in Spock’s mind, where they belonged. There was so much Kirk had wanted to tell Spock, about his brother, his father, his stepfather, about the way corn fields can roll like waves in the early fall. But it was enough. To see him. One last time. Even if everything they were to each other was fractured and broken and weirdly mangled. Maybe that was love... wishing you had more time to pick up the pieces._

_One last gasp and a sigh. His last sight would be Spock. He almost wanted to laugh at that. After all the bickering, all the clashes of opinion, it was Spock he wanted to see, even if it was through this horrible, cold glass. He was lucky enough to just have this moment, for their hands to just almost meet. They had come so far._

_He had done it for him._

_It had always been for-_

_Kirk tried to take a gasping breath, tried to flail, tried to fight away the cool touch of death. Handfuls of sand fell through his fingers, and he felt his body fall into the dunes and roll. Something pinned him, something strong and warm- not at all like death. He knew what death felt like, cold and cruel, like a mist that expanded in your lungs and extinguished your eyes, freezing every artery as it travelled to the heart. The first time he died, his heart had slowly burned out, petering from steady beats to faint, tripping steps. But now, his heart was a drum that overpowered his thoughts. He tried to break through the static, to scream._

A dry, choking yelp escaped his throat, pitiful and weak. He was trembling, every nerve ending vibrating with the emotional relics of his past. With eyes still shut, he reached out, trying to feel his surroundings, trying to find Spock, or Bones, or anything. His found Spock’s chest, grabbing fistfuls of cloth and pulling himself closer, desperately. He clung to him, the Vulcan’s chest rising and falling quickly, under his cheek. For a moment, he felt safe, alive. Kirk almost didn’t register the quivering hand that rose to his forehead and pressed against his brow.

_Again, Kirk plummeted._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent a lot of time on this chapter- and the next one. I would say I've this rewritten several, several times. I hope the effort shows and I hope you are still enjoying this story!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are always highly, highly appreciated.


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